City Dog

Marley was a year old on Christmas Day. He's an Australian Cattle Dog mix - his mother was a red ACD, but we don't know what his father was. I'm leaning toward German Shepherd, but I've also been told he might be a pure Cattle Dog. We'll do a DNA some day soon to find out. Marley is now 55 lbs., and he probably won't get much larger. At the right is a picture of Marley about six weeks ago at the dog run on 42nd Street near the FDR Drive.

There's a whole social scene centered on dogs. I'd pass the dog owners sitting on the benches lining Tudor City Place on my way home from work or on the weekend. Sometimes, there would be so many dogs and dog owners that you could barely pass. I'd catch a phrase here & there, invariably about how good or bad a particular dog was.

Debbie and I knew a few people because of their dogs. In fact, we sometimes knew the dogs' names but had no idea of their owners' names. Since bringing Marley home, we've learned that the correct terms are "mothers" and "fathers" (or grandparents), rather than owners. And boy, do you ever meet dogs and their people! I probably know 50 dogs and know or recognize their parents. And I can't count the times I've heard shouted, "How's Marley?" or "Hey, there's Marley!"

Marley is a good dog. He loves every dog and every person. He wants to meet and play with every dog he comes across. He'll try to drag me two blocks to meet a dog. We're working on getting Marley to stop jumping on people. He's just so excited to be alive and he's full of energy.

Living in the city, you learn to take the dog for walks several times a day/night. Taking two (poop) bags every time is a must, 'cause you never know when it's needed. You don't want to get a reputation for being someone who doesn't clean up after their dog. That just won't do.