When it happens, it won't be the dog's fault.

Driving to work this morning, I spotted a middle-aged woman standing still on the side of the road, her hands up, and her eyes focused on a young, collarless Rottweiler in front of her.  The dog was pacing, from the street to the sidewalk, and the woman was trying (I think) to get past him safely. She was clearly frightened, and whether her fear was warranted or not, her body language was inclined to worsten the situation, if the dog was as afraid as the woman was. I was afraid the dog would bolt into the busy street to escape her.
I pulled over, got out of the car, behind the dog, and he turned around to face me. I knelt down and began talking sweetly to the dog. I got his attention and walked slowly around the corner, and much to the relief of the woman, the dog followed.This dog wasn't dangerous, he was scared.
Once around the corner I spotted the dog's home. A second Rottie was peering through a broken-down chain link fence This one was also without a collar, wearing no tags. I squatted in the dirt next to the fence, and talked to them both, in calming tones.
A round little man in shorts and bare feet came running out of the house, alarmed. "That's my dog!" He said, rushing toward a gate on the side of the yard. He called the dog in and came over to me, on the inside of the fence.
"Thank you," he said nervously. "Where was he?"
He was around the corner, on the road," I told him. "Are they microchipped?"
"Yes, Yes," he said.
"You know," I said, trying hard not to sound bossy, "If they had collars on them with tags, then if they get out again, someone could call the number on the tag and let you know they found them."
"Yes, I know, I should do that," he said, and I knew he didn't mean it.
I looked at the fence between us. It was a three-foot high fence.  top line sagged, and the bottom had been dug out, I assume, by these two bored and lonely black and tan fellows.
I got back in my car and thought about how horrible that man is going to feel when one of them gets hit by a car, or just disappears altogether, never to be seen again.
It's really frustrating.

How can you be mad?

This is Frankie. Frankie is a puppy, and he is, well...energetic. If there's something he shouldn't get into, he's all in.  This particular morning, Frankie followed behind me as I watered the garden, and played in the puddles I made below the plants. I didn't notice. Frankie regained my full attention when I returned to the house, and he entered at a full gallop, with the above soil-blackened paws, dripping. Frankie did a victory lap around the living room, and across the entire couch, before coming to a joyful stop at my feet.

He was so happy.

Because Every Dog Is A Good Dog.

Welcome to The Good Dog. Here we will think deeply about all things dog. How they are, How we are because of them. The Good, the bad, and the ugly of a dog's life, and how it affects us people. Welcome, and let's begin.