The Real Dogs of
White Bear Lake
Every dog has a story. “The Real Dogs of White Bear Lake” is the name of a column I do for The White Bear Press and affiliated papers owned by Press Publications serving the northeast suburbs of the Twin Cities in Minnesota. Each column features a glimpse into the life of a dog I come across by chance on rambles around the city of White Bear Lake and surrounding communities. These are my (often humorous) takes on the lives, loves, aspirations and dramas of ordinary dogs who make their humans’ lives more extraordinary, and vice versa. Skim the intros for a dog that catches your eye. Column links are posted on my site the week after Press Publications has run its print edition. Reprints (PDF’s) are provided here also.
This two-year-old creamy white labrador retriever is still a bit retriever-divergent. She doesn’t yet care much about chasing and fetching balls. She wants nothing to do with swimming or boating. But she’s a big star in her own way. Meet Sawyer, gifted mood elevator at large.
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Not long ago, Matthew Waldoch took Ivy, his new husky puppy, to the vet for a round of vaccinations. Before the first shot, the vet produced a cheesy treat. Ivy took it happily. Then came the sharp poke. Hey! Then a second treat was offered. Ivy didn’t bite. Not gonna fool this girl twice. Matthew was a little bit proud. But he also knew how much dog he had bitten off. How’s that going?
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This is Eli’s story, still unfolding. It may leave you with some big feels. You are forewarned. Tiny Eli is a hereditary blend of Chihuahua and Doberman Pinscher, a pairing of incongruous dog genes that, when they first met up in the reproductive process, probably gaped at one another and thought, “You and me? Really?” But then got on with their cellular journey. A life well and bravely lived, as in seven-year-old Eli’s case, is a balance of risk and reward. Recently, calamity struck.
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Until she was about ten months old, Addison, aka Addie, was in rough shape in a rough place, desperately thin and missing a lot of the fur she should have had. When Addie first came to Andrea O’Shea as a rescue, the dog could empty a food dish faster than you could say, “Sweetheart, take a breath.” She was also said to be difficult to train and a bit of an “alpha.” Where did things go from there?
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Born to a pair of black Australian Shepherds, Duke was meant to look like them, but didn’t. He saw every one of his littermates taken. He alone remained for rather a long time, unchosen, possibly on account of how he looked, until Ben Ludwigson came along, looking for what really counted in a friend and travel partner. How’s their journey going?
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When Chris Wilke and his dog Elska make a stop for groceries, and she has to stay in the vehicle a short while, it’s been reported that she’ll keep her gaze trained on the door of the store that Chris disappeared through, right up until the moment he reappears. She’s discovered that if she uses her Vulcan-like canine mind-meld powers, and aims them very hard at the door of the store, it will bring Chris back to her side. It never fails.
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Remember Lassie? The long-haired Collie of classic movie and TV fame who always saved the day? Or made an impossibly arduous journey home? It’s been a while since the heyday of Lassie fandom. But there’s still something about a Collie that says loyalty, home and family. And in this case, beer. Find out why.
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Meet Louie. A dog with a shrouded past who’s made an extraordinary physical adaptation. But let’s first imagine him sitting in a chair across from Henry Louis Gates, Jr., host of the documentary TV series “Finding Your Roots.” The cameras are rolling. Louie is all ears, admirably holding back a huge urge to chew on his microphone. He’s still in that Chewing is Life! phase of his youth. Check out his story of loss and new love.
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Meet Non-conformist Finn, a Black Lab mix, with maybe a dash of Pointer. Only Finn could tell you how he first came into the hands of a rescue organization in Alabama. Had he gotten irretrievably lost? Was he a hunting dog, dumped for failing to be what he was supposed to be? Would he fail his next “test”?
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Meet Diggs, Jam and Truman. They would like you to know that they are not roadies for a death metal touring band. No sir. And though you might think they’re out for an early Halloween stroll, that is not the case here either. So what’s with those gleaming studs and spikes sticking out from those outfits they’re wearing?
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Six years ago, entering retirement, Roger Schwinghammer faced a baffling decision, the outcome of which was bound to alter his life. And it was this: Now that he had the time to give, he’d decided to become a first time Golden Retriever dad. He visited a promising littler of ten. He committed to taking one. But, suddenly the choices dwindled. How did that work out?
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Meet Archie*, a very Great Dane indeed. Archie is an elder statesman known to many for his extremely gentle but dignified bearing. He accepts the curiosity, pats and strokes of friends and strangers with patient aplomb, as though to rebuff them would be a failure of station and good character. That he enjoys the attention does not mean he intends to grovel for it. What is this big man about town all about?
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* This story was combined with Echo & Athena’s story (below) in the White Bear Press.
Meet Echo and Athena, a pair of Pomskies. Pomskies? What are those? Imagine that you accidentally shrunk two of your best, furriest sled dogs in the dryer, and then made the best of your ruined chances for winning the Iditarod by declaring them a new designer dog breed. See what sort of career these two have carved out.
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Say hi to Pippi, a 7-year-old English Bulldog. Actually, there’s nothing she’d like better. She has enough fans on ground in White Bear Lake to be a social media influencer. But she has neither fairness of face nor the blind ambition for pushing product. See what she does fantasize about.
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Meet Elsie and French. Life has unexpectedly thrown them together, and each dog has left something important behind. For one of them, that wasn’t so hard. For the other, it was. They aren’t what you’d call BFF’s. But both have read and agreed to the user terms set forth by their humans. See how that’s going.
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John and Kim Ghilardi had grieved the loss of their 15-year-old English Pointer. But the time came to adopt a new puppy. And the criteria were as follows: John, who terms himself a casual hunter, had an eye out for a dog with tracking and retrieving potential. A son hoped for an indoor buddy. Kim established what the dog could not be. Meet the Swiss Army Knife of family dogs.
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In a place we’ll call “Elsewhere” for lack of better intel, in a local holding facility, a young, healthy and affectionate female dog was slated to be euthanized. It’s not known why. But what comes to mind is a kill shelter with an oversupply of homeless dogs. Enter Pepper, a dog who likely never had a human to call her own before, and Marie, who had never owned a dog before.
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Honorable Mentions
I do very much love dogs. But am I all about the dogs? No. I love them in addition to many other animals. Much as I wish it were the case, as this column goes, I just can’t count on meeting enough people out walking their cats, pot bellied pigs, emotional support iguanas, or what have you. But I thought I’d begin a little bonus gallery here of some interesting non-dog encounters.
While down at White Bear Lake one day my eye was drawn to a man at a distance leading a strange looking dog on a leash. It had a somewhat curious shape and an odd gait as it poked along, intent on stopping to inspect the ground here and there. I watched as they made their way across a stretch of grass for a bit and then headed down a dock at the launch area, where they boarded a waiting boat. I walked over for a closer look. Introductions were made. This is Ed. His “strange looking dog” is Daisy. Daisy is a goat. She enjoys going fishing with Ed. Or just cruising. Our encounter was brief. Ed wanted to get out of the way so others could use the launch area. There’s really only one thing to say here:
Whatever floats your goat.
Stopped at a garage sale. Heard a muttering sound near the trees. Turned to see this big guy hanging out nearby, no tether attached, free as a….well, free as a bird. He was giving me the one-eyed once over. Not something you expect to see in Minnesota. His watchful owners, who hadn’t had him very long, said he appeared unable to fly, for reasons they could only speculate about. None of them good. His name is Sammy.
He seemed to enjoy the sunshine and the people-watching that the driveway sale afforded. He grew very animated when I spoke to him. While some birds are certainly very well cared for, I can’t help thinking about the cruelties of the exotic animal trade. So many maimed in transit or gone literally insane from isolation and boredom. It always gores me on some level to see these gorgeous, wildly smart, deeply sensitive creatures in captivity. Still, I was unbearably thrilled to make this magnificent bird’s acquaintance so close up. I was allowed to give Sammy the slice of apple he’s eating here and instructed how to approach him. He grasped the treat gently, so deftly, with his huge curling talons. He uttered a throaty “Thank you.”
Thank YOU, sweetheart. Glad your life is better now. If not what it was meant to be.