July-2005

WELCOME to The Ark of Mark, the only periodic Christian humor column to report that it periodically receives a flyer in the mail advertising mortgages from a firm in Louisville that has a loan officer named George Bailey. Those of you who are fans of a certain Christmas movie will understand my curiosity as to whether Mr. Bailey is using a fake name, is just part of a big coincidence, or was somehow influenced by the movie to pursue a career loaning money for homes. Every time I receive one of these flyers I have to fight the urge to call and tell him not to trust Uncle Billy with the deposits.  I'm sure he's never heard that one before.

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Dog Daze

"As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his folly."  Proverbs 26:11

I wouldn't say that I have a love-hate relationship with our dog.  It's more of a love-frustrate relationship.  Our dog's name is Winnie, and she's a Shetland Sheepdog (a.k.a. "Sheltie" to those of you into dog lingo).  Much like a Shetland Pony is a kind of smaller version of a horse, a Shetland Sheepdog is kind of a smaller version of a sheep.  Actually, a Shetland Sheepdog is often called a miniature Collie, although I think that's only based on appearance and isn't technically correct, but I digress.  (And why exactly is everything in Shetland smaller?)

Winnie is a very sweet dog and looks a little like a smaller version of Lassie.  Unfortunately, she does not share much else with the beloved Lassie. Let's just say Winnie isn't exactly the sharpest cheddar in the dairy aisle.  If I fell in a well she'd just bark down it until she grew tired and fell asleep. She probably isn't really dumb, it's more that she's blinded by enthusiasm. I blame much of this on the herding instinct, which probably comes in handy in certain situations (herding) but is a detriment in other situations (anything besides herding).  The ability to herd is just not a skill our family needs very often.

For example, let's say our daughter is taking a nap, and my wife is in our basement checking her e-mail while Winnie lies peacefully nearby.  I decide that the trash needs to go out, so I grab it and head out the back door.  Heaven forbid I should leave the house and fail to include Winnie in my plans.  As soon as she hears the back door, she instantly awakens to full alert status and sprints to the back door, exhibiting the sort of concern one would usually reserve for occasions such as invasion by a hostile foreign power.  She barks. She leaps. She snarls.  When there is nobody else around to be annoyed but me, I have tested Winnie's resolve in situations like this.  She has proven she can maintain this level of concern for upwards of a half-hour before  settling into a wide-eyed, twitchy trance.

Obviously you're thinking I should just let Winnie come outside with me, and I usually do.  However, we only let her roam the fenced-in backyard, and if I need to take the trash to the curb, she will assume full alert bark mode at the gate.  She does this even though I'm in sight the whole time and have taken the trash out regularly all eleven years of her life.  Winnie is only content if everyone in our family is together and she's present.  Thank goodness she's learned that when a car leaves she can write that person off for a while.

Winnie's dysfunction is not limited to herding-related issues.  She is strung about as tightly as a suspension bridge cable during a sumo wrestler marathon.  Believe it or not, Winnie has a problem when I sneeze.  I don't feel that my sneezing technique is anything out of the ordinary, but for some reason if I sneeze Winnie will come running at full speed and stop at my feet and stare at me with a crazed look.  Each subsequent sneeze is good for a few barks, after which she'll finally go back and lie down.  Winnie will take notice if my wife sneezes, but she only freaks out for my sneezes.  Winnie also barks and leaps excitedly at visitors (although your dog breed selection books will tell you Shelties are shy around new people).  Winnie barks at people who walk their dogs past our house.  Winnie barks and throws a fit if you attempt to use a garden hose, which she must perceive as a threat to the family.

I thought I had a pretty good handle on the depth of Winnie's quirks until a couple of years ago.  I was planting a shrub and she was lying nearby watching.  After a few minutes, two wild ducks that live somewhere in the neighborhood waddled into view.  My son has named them Greenie and Brownie (I presume because one is green and the other is brown, or somehow reminds him of a young Girl Scout).  Greenie and Brownie waddled across the yard and appeared to be headed past our garage.  Their path would bring them within fifteen feet of Winnie, which I figured would result in high entertainment when she spotted them. To my amazement, when Winnie noticed them she didn't move.  She didn't bark or chase them away.  She simply watched.  At first I figured she must have been scared, not knowing what the ducks were, but her body language portrayed only a passing curiosity.    She stayed there and watched peacefully as they waddled by.  This is a dog that (at the time) would run fifty yards on a dead sprint if she saw a squirrel.

Why would a dog that barks at a sneeze simply ignore an actual living invader in her territory?  Whatever it is, it's probably the same reason we whine and complain about a three-cent increase in postage but sit with cow-like stares while our television spews foul language, violence, and sex into our living rooms.