Help Ceasar Milano,

There is a basset hound that moved in up the street a couple of months ago or so.   She comes down to my yard a couple of times a day to see what new adventure I have going.  She will come down and bark at me but will never come over to let me pet her.    I have hardly ever met a dog that I couldn't make friends with.  Perhaps the Dog Whisperer could fix it.   Nah, that would just give me something else to do.

But you do have to admit she's cute.



  1. Sometimes dogs need you to let them decide when to be friends...well placed treats and time and no pressure and little eye contact and you'll be good friends. Bonus that she's a neighbor dog. All the fun none of the mess.

  2. MUD, when I was a kid, we had a Basset that looked just about like that.

    But it was a HE. Daddy named him Elvis.

    One day, Elvis got out of his pen, and wandered on to Old Minden Road (where our house was). He got hit by a car.

    I shall never forget Mama grabbing that hound up off the highway...poor Elvis was limp, and Mama was in her floweredy mumu and sandals.

    She called Daddy at the store (it was late in the afternoon, and he was about to get off work anyway), and they rushed Elvis to the vet's office.

    Poor old Elvis came back home with a leather contraption on his snout, and something resembling a cast on his hip (Kinda like a cast, but more like a plaster garter belt).

    Okay...wait for it...

    Elvis had a broke pelvis. Really, he did. I know it sounds like I'm making this up, but I'm not. Elvis had a broken pelvis, and a broken jaw. I remember it like it was this morning...

    Daddy spent weeks taking dry dog food, mixing it with buttermilk, and smashing it in to a mushy mix. Then, he would carefully remove the leather contraption from Elvis' snout...and spoon-feed Elvis that stinky junk.

    Then, he'd carefully put that leather harness/contraption back on Elvis' snout. Elvis survived, and Daddy did, too.

    I learned a lot about what it means to take on a responsibility (even if it's just a pet) from watching my Daddy nurse Elvis back to health...such as it was...Elvis never really made it all the way back, but Daddy tried.

    Seriously, I remember it like it was this morning. My Daddy is a good man.