I have always said that you can take the dog off the streets, but you can't take the streets out of the dog.
We don't have as clear an idea of Ariel's past as we do of Milo's. Her rescue, Tails of Courage, found her on the streets of Atlanta, where she was nursing her litter of puppies. Once they were weaned, the pups were promptly adopted. Some time later, when Ariel came to our family, my son, much younger at the time, exclaimed, "Mommy! I can see the bottles where she fed her babies!" Our little mama dog.
From my experience of Ariel, my guess is that it was her tendency to bolt out any open door that made her story different than Milo's: rather than being thrown away, Ariel was likely abandoned. Perhaps in her small Pomeranian-German Spitz heart lives a racial memory of a time when spitz dogs were larger, wolfier, bred for pulling sleds across the frozen tundra. Her heart beats with the desire to run, to course long distances, to Go Places. That desire, I think, cost her that first home.
In her time with us, Ariel has escaped many times - never running too far, never getting truly lost, but never easy to catch, if indeed she can be caught at all. I can imagine that her previous owner, tired of constantly trying to recapture her or tired of paying fines to animal control to reclaim her, eventually gave up and left her to a life out on the streets. It didn't dampen her spirits, it seems; she has never lost her love of exploring and wandering, marking territory and sniffing for the signs other dogs leave behind in their "pee mail."
Now that she's part of our family, Ariel has settled in nicely - though we always need to be aware of her tendency to bolt, or to dig out from under any fence with even an inch of room beneath it. She also has no fondness for other dogs- it's not that she dislikes them; she simply couldn't care less about them. She is not a dog, she seems to say. She is a princess, and dogs are beneath her notice. When she came to us, we had another dog, a Cattle Dog/Beagle mix named Nevin, but Ariel and Nevin never moved beyond cordiality to true friendship. She and Nevin were amiable roommates, but they never played, never curled up together, never shared whispered intimacies in the night. When Nevin died of a fast-moving aggressive cancer, Ariel was unphased and happily assumed the role of Top Dog in our house. She enjoys being Top Dog.
What she also doesn't care for, besides other dogs, are toys. I wonder sometimes if she was ever given toys as a pup, because when we first got her and showered her with both affection and playthings, she didn't seem to know what to do with them. We tried to teach her. Throw a ball, and she'll watch it go. Whip a toy back and forth in front of her, squeaking it madly, and she'll watch you with a perplexed expression. Soft dog beds, yes; chewy snacks of all sorts, yes PLEASE! But toys? She's not a fan.
What Ariel loves, rather than other dogs and toys, is people. All people, all genders, all ages. I bring her to the dog park partly because she enjoys sniffing out the places other dogs have been and leaving her own mark there, partly because she's come to enjoy sniffing other dogs, but mostly because the dog park has a ready supply of new people and old friends for Ariel to greet. She bounds from person to person - into laps, beside them on benches, stretching her paws up standing legs - gazing up at them appealingly, trying to kiss their faces, making their own dogs jealous. If Ariel was more reliable off leash, or a tad less stubborn when it comes to training, I'd pursue certification as a therapy dog; she would relish the chance to visit nursing homes or hospitals and kiss the sadness of humans away.
Since the advent of Milo, Ariel has been decidedly nonplussed. She does not like his puppy bouncing and nipping, correcting him with a lifted lip and a growly bark. She steals his chewies, though she's been given her own. She may be wondering how long he plans to stay - she's accustomed to our babysitting for my sister-in-law's large, exuberant dog Bindi, and may think that Milo is just another limited time visitor. Twice since he arrived, she's managed to escape into the woods out back, not returning for many hours - though I don't think it's BECAUSE of Milo that she ran off (Princess Flight Risk, anyone?); dogs just don't think that way. Exactly what she thinks of the pup is anyone's guess, really... but so long as he continues to respect her Top Dog position, they are maintaining an uneasy truce.
Until the next chew treat gets passed out.
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