As I rounded the corner to hike up the long, sloping hill on one of the legs on my morning walk, I looked to my right and saw a Blue Heeler playing in a yard. Two women, one young, one old, were in the driveway. I called across- as I always do,
“May I have permission to pet your Heeler?”
Before I got the words out of my mouth, said Heeler had already shot across the yard, the (blessedly empty) street, and was rolling on his back at my feet.
I did NOT call the dog. I asked permission. I did everything right.
The young woman, whose house sits on a very busy local street and cross street, was mad at hell.
At me.
Train Your Damned Dog.
As someone who has lived and worked in Australia and owned two Blue Heelers, I know and respect this intensely independent and wilful breed. I also know how long it takes to train them.
For most, for the basics, a matter of a few minutes, at best, a few hours. They are monumentally intelligent, eager to please and they need work. As a breed, they are cattle, sheep and herding dogs, fit for an athlete. Not cooped up in a house all day with an old woman and a work-weary daughter.
Forgive me, but don’t blame ME for the fact that you are at work all day and don’t…