Downeast Dog News

Ask Bammy, an Advice Column for Dogs by a Dog

By Nancy Holmes | Oct 01, 2017

I am a Carolina Dog, a breed that long ago owned Native American people. We were designed by natural selection to be so intelligent and physically superior that we survived without humans. My great-grandfather was caught from the wild. I can offer advice based on the natural instincts and abilities of wild dogs. My human and I have had lots of training classes and other experiences. Some humans call themselves Mom or Dad of their dog, but I call my human, tongue in cheek, Boss. Much as I love her, I admit she has many of the same odd notions as most humans, so I can relate to other dogs with problem humans. If I can’t help, at least I can offer sympathy, and we can have fun talking about our amazing humans. Please send your questions! Bammy, 280 Pond Rd. Newcastle, ME 04553, or email:


My e-mail pal Eddie and I wrote about our summer adventures.


Hi, Eddie!

Did you come to Maine? Isn’t it awfully hot in New York City? It’s finally getting cooler here. You’d think as a southern gentledog I wouldn’t mind heat, but we wild dogs take good care of ourselves. It’s so nice in our den! Shady and no bugs. I like to be near Boss, so I stay outside with her as long as I can stand it. When it rains I bark her to come, in case it thunders.

I’ve retired from agility. It took me a year to persuade Boss that I’m really tired of it! It’s been ten years! I used to love it, but we just do the same old stuff. We have a new game I love. I weave between her legs, walk on my hind legs, leap into the air and come down facing the other way. It’s really fun—and lots of treats.

I’d love to hear what you are up to.

Nose licks,



Dear Bammy,

I only got to Maine for a month, but I sure enjoyed it. I hunted the wood bees, frogs, and snakes in our yard. I chased red squirrels all over the place. I shriek at them when they run up the trees, but they never come down where I can get them.

Now I’m back in Queens, chasing wood bees in the backyard and going for long walks where I can check my pee-mail. Of course my humans play with me, but not enough. Sometimes I do what they call “scissor-paws.” When they get tired of throwing my toys before I get tired of chasing them, I wrap my paws around their legs to tell them to stay and play with me. One night my sister and I had to protect the neighborhood from a horrid, screaming creature that was hiding between the fences in our yard. The humans said it was a raccoon.




Dear Eddie,

I’ve never met a raccoon. I hear something by the brook at night that sets my hair on end, and Boss says that word. At night with the window open, I smell all sorts of things I’ve never seen.

It’s funny about “scissor-paws.” I saw my packmate do that to Boss at her first agility trial. Boss had to go into the ring without her and walk around the course. When Boss came back the poor dog was so scared she wrapped her arms around Boss’s leg to keep Boss from abandoning her again. Boss tried to pry her off, but she was really strong and really scared. So they hopped into the ring like that, Kittie attached to Boss’s leg. When Kittie heard people laughing and she saw the course, she was ready to play. She won the blue ribbon in her very first show!

You like to chase bees, too! I get so excited jumping for them that I bark! My friend and I used to leap around for them together, like crazed ballet dancers. Boss laughed so hard she had to sit down. I suppose you’ve had them bite you. Yelps! I just snap my teeth to scare them or nip and shake so they can’t get me. Yesterday I snapped one onto the ground, but I let it fly away. Sometimes when one is in a flower I almost touch it with my nose to feel the buzzing before I snap at it.

Well, that’s all my news, Eddie. Write me soon.

Keep those raccoons away,


Big tail wags to Susan Roberts who helps Eddie write!