Note: This post was originally a sort of explanation page called Where Wayward Dogs Go. I decided to make it a standard post because I think it's better suited as such. The new "explanation" is a Disclaimer, which spells out the point of this project more clearly and succinctly (and, I hope, assures you that I am not too much of a self-righteous, crazy pet lady).
The idea for this blog stems from a realization that there are a lot of wayward dogs in Zach's and my life. All three of our dogs were wayward -- either lost or escaped -- before we got them. One of them we first met cowering on the walking/jogging/biking trail near our house about a year ago. As it turns out, that trail is a regular dog magnet.
It's no wonder that dogs are so attracted -- for them, the trail presents a bounty of smells and intrigue. Not a canine that travels it -- on-leash or off -- fails to leave a mark. The trail is also bordered with grasses, trees and weeds that feral cats and other animals like to hide in.
Don't get the wrong impression -- we do live in an urban area. Our trail runs parallel to and crosses really busy streets at various points. But the sometimes-gravel, sometimes-paved pathway also leads through swaths of gnarled trees (which provide great cover for someone's backyard chickens) and passes by a bad-smelling creek. This trail is like a little artery of nature running through our part of Kansas City.
In that sense, the trail itself is wayward. It is a departure from the concrete, glass and metal of regular city living and therefore bears an obvious appeal for animals that -- even after thousands of years of domestication by humans -- still like to dig in the dirt and roll in the grass. Those are doggy urges I can understand. We usually spot loose dogs because we are outside digging in the dirt and tearing out grass for a massive and possibly too-ambitious food garden project.
In just the past month, we have found ourselves dropping our spades to chase after other people's wayward pit bulls, a border collie, a half-deaf and half-blind old mutt, and a beagle. Some of them we caught; some of them we chased unsuccessfully; at least two of them we happened to unknowingly chase right back onto their own family's property.
The idea for this blog stems from a realization that there are a lot of wayward dogs in Zach's and my life. All three of our dogs were wayward -- either lost or escaped -- before we got them. One of them we first met cowering on the walking/jogging/biking trail near our house about a year ago. As it turns out, that trail is a regular dog magnet.
It's no wonder that dogs are so attracted -- for them, the trail presents a bounty of smells and intrigue. Not a canine that travels it -- on-leash or off -- fails to leave a mark. The trail is also bordered with grasses, trees and weeds that feral cats and other animals like to hide in.
Don't get the wrong impression -- we do live in an urban area. Our trail runs parallel to and crosses really busy streets at various points. But the sometimes-gravel, sometimes-paved pathway also leads through swaths of gnarled trees (which provide great cover for someone's backyard chickens) and passes by a bad-smelling creek. This trail is like a little artery of nature running through our part of Kansas City.
In that sense, the trail itself is wayward. It is a departure from the concrete, glass and metal of regular city living and therefore bears an obvious appeal for animals that -- even after thousands of years of domestication by humans -- still like to dig in the dirt and roll in the grass. Those are doggy urges I can understand. We usually spot loose dogs because we are outside digging in the dirt and tearing out grass for a massive and possibly too-ambitious food garden project.
In just the past month, we have found ourselves dropping our spades to chase after other people's wayward pit bulls, a border collie, a half-deaf and half-blind old mutt, and a beagle. Some of them we caught; some of them we chased unsuccessfully; at least two of them we happened to unknowingly chase right back onto their own family's property.
In the midst and aftermath of these little rescue missions, people have expressed both gratitude and puzzlement at our actions. We hope they realize that we are not trying to be the neighborhood animal control. We are just demonstrating the concern we hope our beloved dogs (or cat) would encounter should any of them ever become go wayward.
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