A friend once marveled that a gardener would keep dogs, arguing that cats make better gardening companions. I beg to differ.
Several of my neighbors object to trespassing cats. Telling cats where they can and cannot go is utterly pointless, so mine live indoors. They hunt birds, chase squirrels and terrorize mice, but only vicariously from the windowsills. So if I am to have company in the garden it has to be dogs.
I can’t deny that dogs and gardens can have serious incompatibility issues.
Digging, chewing and running are potentially destructive to bed or border. Not that the dog-smitten give much thought to such practical matters before making the pooch part of the household.
Dogs do have their uses in the garden. Pepper, the spaniel who accompanied my family when we relocated from England to Colorado, was handy in the pest-control department. He eagerly consumed horned tomato worms, grasshoppers and grubs (and at least one mouse, to the horror of a neighbor’s child, who witnessed the spectacle, and to the cat who carried the mouse into the garden from the field next to our house).
In rural areas, dogs can be an effective full-time perimeter defense system. When my friend Rebecca lost her aged malamute, the resulting predator void was soon filled with all manner of garden-wrecking wildlife. Populations of deer, raccoons, squirrels, rabbits and voles exploded.
Two new malamute puppies promise to restore order – invisible fencing allows them the freedom to patrol the garden and several acres surrounding it without fear that they will run out into the street.
But, more often our goal as dog owners is to defend our gardens from our rambunctious pets. Some gardeners claim they have taught their dogs to stay out of the garden. Fencing off portions or raising beds are other options. To discourage her German shepherds from digging holes, my mother laid rose prunings on the ground between plants, which worked like a charm. Gardens designed to be dog-friendly generally employ more than one technique.
Instead of using barriers, I chose a garden-compatible breed of dog. Cavalier King Charles spaniels are the sofa cushions of the dog world. Not given to undignified frenzies, their gardening activity of choice is to sleep in the sun. They’d rather not expend energy to harm the garden.
Perversely, it’s not the garden that needs protecting from my little darlings but the other way around. Hazards abound. My pair views raccoon droppings that fall from the grape arbor as manna from heaven. This has led to more than one trip to the vet for antibiotics to treat an intestinal malady. Organic fertilizer is apparently equally delectable, again causing great distress to delicate digestive systems.
Still, I can’t imagine gardening without dogs. Few endeavors are more solitary than gardening. Having dogs gives me someone to talk to while I work in the garden – without alarming the neighbors.
