LAKE COUNTY DOG WALKERS

Think Outside the Box
Fun Facts, Quotes &Poetry
Fun Facts, Quotes &Poetry

Fun Facts
Fun Facts
- Most domestic dogs are capable of reaching speeds up to about nineteen miles per hour when running at full speed.
- Dogs only sweat from the bottoms of their feet, and the only way they can discharge heat is by panting.
- Dogs have about a hundred different facial expressions, most of them made with the ears.
- Dogs have about ten vocal sounds.
- Dogs do not have an appendix.
- There are more than two hundred different breeds of dogs.
- Dalmatians are born spotless: at first pure white, their spots develop as they age.
- Contrary to popular belief, dogs aren’t color blind; they can see shades of blue, yellow, green and gray. The color red registers on a grays scale in a dog’s vision.
- Using their swiveling ears like radar dishes, experiments have shown that dogs can locate the source of a sound in 6/100ths of a second.
- Domesticated for more than 10,000 years, the dog was one of the first animals domesticated by humans.
- Research has shown owning a dog enhances a child's self-esteem, teaches children responsibility and respect towards other living things, and that therapy dogs can aid in the treatment of children suffering from various health conditions.
- Research has also shown that owning a pet can help adults of all ages reduce blood pressure, stress and anxiety levels.
Famous Dog & Cat Quotes
& One Armadillo
Famous Dog & Cat Quotes
& One Armadillo
"Ever consider what they must think of us? I mean, here we come back from a grocery store with the most amazing haul --chicken, pork, half a cow. They must think we're the greatest hunters on earth!"
~Anne Tyler
Dog Poetry
Dog Poetry
I Started Early--Took My Dog
~Emily Dickinson
I started Early—Took my Dog—
And visited the Sea—
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me—
And Frigates—in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands—
Presuming Me to be a Mouse—
Aground—upon the Sands—
But no Man moved Me—till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe—
And past my Apron—and my Belt
And past my Bodice—too—
And made as He would eat me up—
As wholly as a Dew
Upon a Dandelion’s Sleeve—
And then—I started—too—
And He—He followed—close behind—
I felt His Silver Heel
Upon my Ankle—Then my Shoes
Would overflow with Pearl—
Until We met the Solid Town—
No One He seemed to know—
And bowing—with a Mighty look—
At me—The Sea withdrew—
The Dog of Art
~Denise Levertov
hat dog with daisies for eyes
who flashes forth
flame of his very self at every bark
is the Dog of Art.
Worked in wool, his blind eyes
look inward to caverns and jewels
which they see perfectly,
and his voice
measures forth the treasure
in music sharp and loud,
sharp and bright,
bright flaming barks,
and growling smoky soft, the Dog
of Art turns to the world
the quietness of his eyes.
Canis Major
~Robert Frost
The great Overdog
That heavenly beast
With a star in one eye
Gives a leap in the east.
He dances upright
All the way to the west
And never once drops
On his forefeet to rest.
I'm a poor underdog,
But to-night I will bark
With the great Overdog
That romps through the dark.
Dog
~Mary Roulette
This morning, while it was still dark,
I woke to newborn pups squawking,
seven of them, & one fallen
out of the plastic kiddie pool,
in the middle of the kitchen,
in the middle of where
my husband & three daughters & I
once cooked & ate & congregated
in soft, musical undertones
around the rose laminated countertops.
The one on the run,
having somehow used his mother’s back
or two or more of his litter mates
to vault over the edge of the pool,
now drags his hind legs
like James Caan in Misery—
head bobbling all around, blind eyes.
My husband worries about this
as he rescues the lost pup,
says a bigger pool may be in order.
He is ruminating over the day
when their eyes are all open,
their twenty-eight legs,
all skidding across a floor
covered with newspapers & shit.
But for now,
there’s tender ceremony in the way
he airlifts this smallest of marauders
back over the edge of the pool,
gives him to his mother
who is most often asleep,
her tired, old-girl legs
running in a dream somewhere
away from all this
or, perhaps,
back toward her own dog-humble beginnings,
beginning again.