Editorial

It used to drive me crazy when my parents used to say it, but, gee, time is going by faster than ever – and it never ever goes faster than when I'm gathering information for a dog food review (our annual examination of dry dog food will appear in next month's issue). So many products to examine, from so many companies! And this on top of ordering, fitting, sending back, re-ordering, re-fitting, and photographing a dozen front-clip harnesses for an upcoming review of those. Product reviews are the most time-consuming thing I do!

Most of us see our beloved dogs snuggled in their beds (or ours), romping in our yards or local parks or play groups, on walks along the most picturesque paths we can find, and then back at home, on the couch or by the fireplace. It's easy to forget about all the homeless dogs, the ones who have homes but who are locked out of them in all weather, and those who are abused out of anyone's sight.

Having peroxide on hand is also a great idea in case you just discovered your dog ate something he shouldn't have. Again, time is of the essence. Having to send someone to the store might cause enough of a delay to contraindicate the induction of vomiting. Speaking of dietary indiscretions, having plain canned pumpkin on hand at all times is another good idea.

Pet food companies don't have to prove that their products contain the minimum amounts of all the nutrients that are considered essential for dogs before labeling and selling their foods as complete and balanced" diets. In fact

My sister and her husband have three dogs. Once upon a time, they had three senior dogs at once, and that was a sad time, watching all three decline in mental and physical function, and then dealing with their deaths fairly close together. Today, their dogs' ages are staggered a bit more, with a three-year-old Jack Russell-mix, a four- or five-year-old Chihuahua-mix (one of my former fosters, actually), and then Bo, a fuzzy gray terrier-mix, about 30 pounds, who is about 15 or 16 years old.

It's just about the hottest part of the day as I write this. In my part of the country, at this time of year, that's between 5 and 7 p.m. My husband I don't have air-conditioning, which strikes everyone we know as an odd choice, but it is a choice. We could afford it, but we both grew up with budget-conscious parents and have environmental concerns about everyone burning fossil fuels in order to cool themselves down all summer. We manage it old-school

There was a week in December when I had 16 foster dogs staying with me. It's not quite as crazy as it sounds; 15 of them were puppies – they took up only two crates' worth of space at night! Nine of those puppies were from one litter of pit bull-mixes that were brought into my local shelter. Six were from another litter, perhaps Chihuahua/terrier-mixes, and are being fostered by a friend, but she was traveling (with her own three dogs!) over Christmas and couldn't drag the tiny puppies along, too. Both sets of puppies were estimated to be about 4 to 5 weeks old when they were brought to the shelter by people who claimed to find them." The last foster who was with me – and is still with me – is a year-old hound."

See the photo? That's the house where my office is located. I use two rooms downstairs, and my husband and I usually rent the bedrooms upstairs to students at a local trade school. Only, recently, we've had some family members—and more recently, a family friend and her two dogs—in crisis and in need of a dog-friendly place to live. So, the owner of that dog on the roof—see the dog on the roof?—needed a place to stay, and not just any place, when you have a dog like that.

I spent more than $7,000 on vet bills last year. Only a fraction of that was spent on my own two dogs and two cats; the bulk of it was spent on foster puppies and a relative's dog. The crazy thing is, I think would have come out better if I had bought pet health insurance for all of them, the six foster puppies and my relative's dog included.

Pat Miller and I were discussing her article "On Guard" and laughing about the very expressive photos I have of my Chihuahua-mix, Tito, who used to resource-guard everything with the ferocity of a starving hyena. That's him in the photo on page 20, snarling (and though you can't hear it, crazily growling) to beat the band. The photo was taken a week after he came to live with me, four or so years ago. Today, Tito guards only meaty bones or canned food with that sort of intensity (so he doesn't get them very often, and only when he's safely isolated from other dogs and people). He's a well-managed dog whose behavior had been successfully modified with the techniques Pat describes in her article, so we can laugh now at how demented the actually jolly little guy appeared.

We have published articles, blog posts (on the WDJ website), and posts on the WDJ Facebook page about service dogs and dogs who serve as emotional-support animals (ESAs) a number of times. In every instance, a number of people have commented that there is a scourge of fake" service dogs appearing in all sorts of places where non-service animals are not permitted. The alleged phenomenon makes people furious – both on behalf of the genuinely disabled