Jack, our perfectly fine black dog, lives in the country. He knows no fences so therefore knows all the neighbors, their goats, chickens and various other farm creatures. He is free to roam and yet stays pretty close to home. He has lived this lifestyle his entire life. We are now considering leaving our rural digs for those conveniently located in the heart of Portland. We are ready to trade our endless view, spacious silence and  herds of grazing elk for fuel economy, less yard work and a walk to the local library.

Jack is going to have to get used to Dog Parks and off-leash sites around the city…We visited such a playground today.  As I watched him romp with a dozen strange pooches I felt like I was at the Canine United Nations. I swear that Moammar Gadhafi of the dog world was there, growling and snapping until his owners leashed him and pulled him out of the fray. Once he was removed the tension in the group subsided. There was Sweden, in the body of an old beagle; curious, but ready to give any other dog, who felt so inclined, the lead. Mexico was represented by a couple of happy chihuhuas…France was bounding about trying to get all the guys to play together. Iran and Iraq kept to themselves somewhat, sticking close to the boarders.

There were different personalities, with different values, beliefs and needs, yet the group got along. There was a bit of struggling for position, some fear to overcome…but all in all there was respect, tolerance and a bit of grace.

I think Jack is going to do just fine. All he wants is to be friends with anybody who will have him. He doesn’t know how to discriminate.

Not a bad way to go through life.