I know I'm not the only author out here who has pets, and can tell stories about how amazing they might be.  But I do have an above-average interest in animal intelligence, and have watched examples of amazing behavior on the part of our four footed friends that seem to indicate some higher level of sentience than we might think.  Not only that, but careful observation makes it obvious that each animal possesses a personality unique to itself...there may be some breed specific behaviors one can observe in both cats and dogs, for example, but each individual tends to display its own personality quite effectively.

I'm, of course, probably most familiar with dogs.  I live with a whole pack of the critters, after all.

I was raised around dogs, and had a few as an adult, but circumstances made keeping the animals occasionally problematic.  We ended up retiring my mongrel bitch (we think Keeshond and something else) to a friend's farm when it became obvious we could not keep her in an apartment.

But more recently, having bought a house specifically in order to tend to the needs of our four-footed friends, as well as our own, the dogs we've acquired over the past few years (the first of which came not long before our wedding in May of 2001) are with us to stay.

Kitsune, our Shiba Inu, was the first of our pack, a friendly fox-faced beast with a carefree attitude and a whole-hearted love of humans, was in a pet store we visited in search of a parrot.  I fell in love with him instantly, and we still don't have a parrot.

He's quite the bright fellow, actually, with a mischievous nature not readily apparent.  Soon after we got him, we moved out to the country in order to help a friend with payments on his new home, bringing along Kitsune (who's named after kind of Japanese fox spirit) , our mighty Pomeranian Devil Kharma, and three cats--Harley, Gizmo, and Damien.  Unfortunately, Gizmo wandered off and vanished soon after we moved there.  He had no fear of dogs and probably ran afoul of a coyote.  Or so we assumed.

We started fostering Shibas for the local rescue organization and our roommate soon had himself a Shiba of his very own.  His name was Koji, and he was thicker of body and considerably older than Kitsune.  Kits was still a pup at this point and Koji was about eight years old.  He was everything Kitsune wasn't, suspicious of strangers, cuddly with his chosen people, and capable of acting as though he felt remorse when he did something wrong.

Had we not been suspicious to begin with, we would've never realized how truly sneaky Kitsune actually is/was.  In the middle of the night he'd make a silent leap to the top of the counter (we never even realized he could jump that high, being barely fourteen inches at the shoulders) and cruise the counter-tops in search of scraps, jumping down and acting innocent if anyone should happen to wander into the room.

This wasn't the only sneaky behavior Kitsune displayed.  He has a thing for medicine bottles.  We could always tell when he found one in the garbage or something because the lid had been pried off rather than chewed off.  A dead giveaway that the paper-shredder (Kharma) hadn't done it.

Our friend's dog Koji, at around this same time, evinced his claustrophobic streak.  He'd preferred to outside on the long lead than in the house, but we made it a habit to keep all the dogs in when we went somewhere.  But Koji, on this particular occasion, got locked in Charlie's room.

So, Koji, being a dog of enterprise, proceeded to dig his way through one side of the drywall separating Charlie's room from the living room.  It a nearly square patch dug straight out of the wall.  But only one side, as if after digging through one side, and being aware he'd be in trouble for that much alone, he didn't continue.  Either that or someone came home and interrupted him.

It took us several months for us to complete the patch on the wall.  We usually did a little bit of work on it every weekend.  And every weekend, every time someone touched the wall or one of the drywall tools, Koji would hang his head and proceed to slink around the house.  Then, as soon as it was done, he'd climb up beside the human at hand (usually Charlie or my wife) and beg forgiveness directly.

So this dog not only knew he'd done something wrong, but felt remorse for what he'd done.  And was reminded months later every time someone picked up a tool.

So much for dogs not remembering.

Kharma, our twenty pound pom, probably has a glandular condition.  He is a rather large Pom, and hyper-protective as hell.  We're pretty sure he'd leap between us and a  rampaging grizzy.  He considers all other humans, except those he's made friends with, a potential threat.

Yeah, he's one of the yappy ones.

About two years ago we adopted a Jindo/Chow bitch.  She came with the name Bei jing.  She's our "foster-mama" dog.  We've seen her wrestle an argumentative foster and pin it like a human would.  Being 55 lbs, about 25 lbs heavier than Kitsune, she's the guard dog in the house.  And as quiet as the pom is loud.  Her favorite trick is to sneak up on the kids hanging around out front, hit the fence hard, and bark at the same time.

About six months ago we bought a Miniature Pincer puppy we named Bella.  Since then her name has evolved to "Boo."  She's an absolute sweetheart:  bouncy as a Tigger, and happiest when she's cuddled up with one of her people.  She has a thing for headphones.  When of us takes our headphones off, we have to be careful to make sure they're not within Boo-reach.

Currently we have two cats.  Damien, who introduced himself quite effectively not long after I moved in with my wife, during a brief trip she took to Arizona not long  after we got together, by knocking plants off the loft down at me while I sat on the couch below.  He REALLY doesn't trust strangers.  He usually hides if someone shows up, but I was shocked when we had a visitor one day and Dami crouched in the kitchen and squeaked his disapproval.

Samhain, or "Baby" is a our calico winter-kitty.  She's a longhair, and one of the prettiest cats I've ever laid eyes on.  She's a talkative one, and likes to climb on the roof of the front porch and chat down at us while we're calling the dogs.  She also comes when called, often better than the dogs, and insists on having a treat anytime the dogs do.  In fact, she pretty much sees herself as one of the dogs.

We've been through other cats since we've been here.  Harley, my wife's elder manx, suffered serious injuries in what we think was a bit of play grown too rough with the dogs during a point in time we were fostering a Shiba pup who showed a particularly high prey drive.

We ended up adopting him out to a cat-free home.  He was a sweet dog and we honestly don't think there was any malicious intent.  It looked like an accident.

We also ended up with a kitten, who we named Pixel...a sweet white Manx who was, unfortunately, born without any kind of tail at all.  Feline Spina-Bifeda.  He was about six months old when we discovered that he could no longer defecate, the whole channel having been plugged.  A surgical operation was suggested, but it was both expensive and unlikely to work very well.

So we have said goodbye to two cats over the past couple years.  Thankfully we have Dami and Baby, who are both rather young and healthy.  Dami, who's small but hefty, is only about five.  Baby's three.  They're primarily inside cats, and even Baby, who does wander outside, primarily sticks inside the yard.  If we see her outside the fence we berate her for it and it's gotten to the point that if she hears our front door open, she dodges back in immediately.

From left to right: Kharma, Bella (Boo), and our poor lost Pixel.

Sharing your life with animals is both heart-warming and heart-breaking, at various times.  We once fostered a beautiful young Shiba/Sharpei male we named Velcro--primarily because he was one of the cuddliest Shiba types we'd ever met--and lost him due to an unknown heart condition when he was put under for neutering.

Then there was Char.  One night my wife received a call from an acquaintance saying that someone had dropped off a pitbull in front of his work--simply tied him to a post and told whoever was inside that she couldn't keep the dog and he belonged to whoever wanted him.

I drove into the city that night to pick him up.

Now, I know how a lot of people feel about pits.  The thing about this guy was that he was a great big 70 lb teddy bear when we got him.  He absolutely loved people and played very carefully with Kharma.  In fact, he did a lot to bolster Kharma's ego, since Char acted submissive to the little monster.  The mighty Pomeranian Devil, fierce commander of pitbulls.

The downside was that we couldn't keep him.  We had limited space and were already obligated to take in Shiba and (occasionally) Jindo fosters.  He got to about a hundred pounds by the time we realized Char had to go somewhere.  We'd been trying to get the local Pitbull and Amstaff rep to place him, or, if nothing else, take him in--since it was HER obligation to deal with him.  We kept him for so long because we were helping HER, not the other way around.

Well, we ended up finally driving up to Seattle and dropping Char off at her shop.  It wasn't an easy decision to make, and she certainly wasn't happy about it, but after about six months caring for him, we knew that we would either have to do it, or give up fostering entirely to make room for Char as a permanent addition.

Sometimes we wish we had.  It wasn't more than a few months later that we found our new house where we could have kept him forever without the extra caveats.

But, the good news is that Char is working as a therapy dog now, with his Canine Good Citizenship award and even a newspaper write-up.  My wife saw the article in the paper several months back and passed along the information to me.  I was SO happy for him.  He's always been on my list of favorite fosters, and one of the reasons I will always stand up to defend lovers of the breed.  He is truly a gentle giant, and a role model for all dogs, not just the big galoots.

Then, while tending a booth at a pet fair for a local rescue organization, my wife was accosted by a big black dog that seemed to leap out of nowhere, pulling away from his owner on the sidelines and slobbering all over her.  After nearly two years Char remembered her and absolutely had to say hi.  His owner was shocked that he'd done this, until my wife explained who she was.

And who says dogs don't remember?  Dogs never forget the people they love.