THE GARDENER AND THE DOG
A friend of mine is the proud human companion of an adolescent golden retriever. The dog, whom I will call “B.”, to avoid embarrassing him, is among the most intelligent and handsome of his breed, but he seems to have some of the same problems as male human adolescents. Early veterinary intervention has probably made it possible for him to get through more than five minutes without thinking of sex, but he has other typical adolescent issues, including lots of restless energy, a lack of focus and a tendency to damage things without really meaning to. He will grow out of this in time, as adolescents of most species do, but until then, he will remain a source of vexation to his human companions.
My friend and I were looking over what remained of her plantings after six months of dog depredation. Clearly there were few garden areas that hadn’t felt the touch of his paws and few plants unmarked by his teeth. Small chipmunk holes had become groundhog-size, making me give thanks that there were no pre-existing groundhog holes. B. could easily have turned them into meteor-size craters.
Judging by B.’s extensive efforts, I would say that with proper training, he might one day be a great gardener. He obviously has a love for the earth and the outdoors, which are prerequisites for any individual who aspires to be a gardener. His high energy level is perfect for a discipline that requires a lot of work and persistence. Needless to say, he is in very good physical shape and doesn’t mind getting wet. He doesn’t require expensive garden clogs or Wellington boots either.
Every good horticulturist has been told at one time or another to give new specimens a good start by digging a ten dollar planting hole for a five dollar plant. Judging by the size of B.’s expanded chipmunk holes, he can do that and more. In fact, it appears that he could easily dig a one hundred dollar hole for each five dollar plant. If he could be trained to dig those holes as directed in garden beds, my friend could even contract B.’s services out to others. All parties might profit.
B. can also prune with a vengeance. He seems to specialize in woody plants, which are generally the species most in need of pruning. Considering the fact that he lacks an opposable thumb, he is especially adept at pruning and certainly enthusiastic. Like all novice pruners, he is somewhat nonselective in his efforts. Grasping woody trunks in his teeth, he either bites them off, or, if they prove especially resistant, he yanks them out by the roots. I have often had the same impulses when pruning my own shrubs and trees. B. will never be able to use bypass pruners or loppers, but he could be trained to prune more carefully, biting off overlong branches, removing root suckers and reshaping bulky shrubs. I wouldn’t trust him to do level pruning of a box or privet hedge, but that is fine. You have to leave some tasks to humans or the humans will get bored and indulge in destructive activities.
Every year a couple of big plant breeder/wholesalers send me new cultivars to try in my garden to evaluate overall toughness and hardiness, as well as other potentially desirable traits. B. would make an excellent plant tester, since he is very efficient at creating situations that are inherently stressful to plants. I have noticed that an own-root rose that he pruned back to the ground last fall has grown back from its roots, as has a young stewartia tree that received a similar pruning. Several rhododendrons that he lopped back to rock garden size are also making a healthy comeback. Perennials subjected to repeated flattening by his paws have regained erect stature and show every sign of starting the annual bloom cycle. These plants are truly tough enough to survive in almost any circumstances. B.’s family could even capitalize on his skills by marketing a trademarked line of plants–for example, “B.’s Indestructibles”–that have successfully survived the unique B. stress tests.
In short, B. is a garden asset. His human companions should be careful, though. If word gets out about B.’s pruning skills, admirers all over the South make try to hire him to rid them of kudzu. There is, after all, only one B., and there may not be enough of him to go around.