A couple of the dogs are shy or wary, but most are lovable, attention-seeking showboats. They jump atop their houses and excitedly parade about the roofs, or stretch their leashes to lean in closer to us — panhandling pooches begging for scritches. For the dog-averse, this scene could easily be a nightmare. But we happily zig-zag between the doghouses, stroking their scruffy fur, doling out sweet talk, and soaking up the puppy love. It helps that our 7-year-old, a budding naturalist, has a limitless capacity for petting furry creatures.
We’re warned about Moo, named for his Holstein-style black-and-white coat, who has earned a reputation as a charming but mischievous mitten thief. Sure enough, as my wife, Gina, bends to pet him, Moo furtively tugs off her glove — like a magician doing a sleight of hand — and nonchalantly starts to nibble it while still basking in her affections. One