The Nose Knows what it Knows

"Dog," said my sister, Kathy.

I looked over my shoulder. A youngish woman with a dog about the size of Ray was jogging up behind us.

"Are your dogs friendly?" asked the smiling woman when she was close enough for us to hear.

"Sometimes," I replied thinking of Ray's adverse reaction to Boxers and most of the other bully breeds (except Pit Bulls - Ray seems to like them quite a bit).
"Not really," replied Yuko, referencing Flower Power's feisty reaction to most other dogs.

I watched as Ray approached the newcomer for a sniff. Immediately, he went into his "OMG it's a Greyhound!" reaction; bobbing and weaving, bowing, squirming, wagging, and spinning. All of a sudden he stopped and bellowed in the dog's face, his classic reaction to bullys, then backed up and stood a few feet away, a look of consternation on his face. His eyebrows were doing the forehead Flatley.

"What kind of dog is that?" I asked the woman, knowing it had to be some kind of mix but not being able to tell by the assemblage of parts; a short, smooth coat, tucked-up waist, squarish head, and smile wrinkles.

"It's part Whippet," she replied (aha, said my brain, the Greyhound connection), "And some people think he looks part boxer. We know there's also some Husky in him."

I couldn't see the Husky but could understand why people thought there must be some Boxer, the smile wrinkles and head shape indicated such.

I looked at Ray. He was still standing apart, head down, eyebrows burning a path across his forehead, trying to figure this one out.

I shook my head in amazement thinking that Ray could work for the dog DNA people. He could at least winnow out the Greyhounds and related breeds and the Boxers and other bullys. Oh, and the blonds. Ray can still tell when a dog is blond, and he still wants to get extra-friendly with them.