We Run This Street — As Told By the Dogs
Updated: Aug 24
If you have spent any time on this blog, you already know that I live on the best street in Wisconsin. I know everyone says that about their street. I mean it.
We have been neighbors for over eighteen years, the kind of neighbors who have each other's garage codes, who let each other's dogs out on long weekends, who show up for one another without being asked. Over the years dogs have come and gone on this street, and with them, friendships have deepened in ways nobody planned.
Right now, there are nine dogs living within shouting distance of my back door. Nine very different personalities, nine very different stories, and nine very strong opinions about how this street should be run.
I asked them to introduce themselves. They had a lot to say.
Holly — Jock's
Pit Bull mix, age 10.
Hello. I am Holly and I would like to address something right away. Yes, I am a Pit Bull mix. No, I am not what you have been told to expect. I have been quietly dismantling that stereotype for ten years one new friend at a time, two legged and four legged alike. I find it is most effective to simply show up, be charming, and let people draw their own conclusions. I have even been referred to by many as the Party Princess of this neighborhood. Once the pearls come out, it's time to party!
My favorite place when I'm not entertaining is wherever my dad is. Yard work, couch, does not matter. I am there. He gets the credit for a lot of things around here, but I want to be clear about the fostering, that was me. When a new dog arrived, I always gave them space, let them settle, helped them feel safe while they waited for their forever family. Many dogs from Texas shelters are alive and in good homes today because I said, "come on in, you are welcome here." Dad just opened the door. I handled the rest.
Currently I am focused on living my best life, in pearls, it is a full-time job, but I am very good at it.
Jager and Kahlua — Brian and Brittney's
Labradoodles
We are Jager and Kahlua. Yes, we are named after alcohol. And yes, we have fully grown into our names.
Together we run a very tight security operation on this street. Roman handles the deliveries from across the street, 2 doors down, we handle everything else. It is a collaborative effort and we take it seriously. The neighborhood is safe. You are welcome.
Now. We need to talk about June. Kahlua has an announcement.
I walked Brittney down the aisle at her wedding. In a bowtie. I want that to sink in for a moment. A bowtie. I was the picture of elegance and restraint, and I did a fantastic job — really, really fantastic. All in attendance agreed, even Jager. I am a labradoodle in formal wear, and I have never been more myself than I was in that moment.
Jager was not in the wedding. He is fine. Totally fine.
Roman — John and Nancy's
Boxer, age 5
My name is Roman and I take my job very seriously. I am the neighborhood's first and finest line of defense and I will not apologize for my commitment to excellence.
I have a particular issue with delivery drivers. FedEx. UPS. USPS. And Amazon — do not even get me started on Amazon. I don't know what is happening on this street but the volume of Amazon packages arriving at these houses is frankly alarming and I intend to alert everyone every single time. Someone has to.
My dad calls me his Bruce Lee. This is accurate. When someone I love comes to the door, I express my joy through a series of spin kicks that frankly defy my size and dignity simultaneously. I cannot help it. The excitement takes over. Dad seems both proud and slightly concerned. I consider this a win. And a note about my dad — the neighbors call him The Professor, his stories and one-liners are legendary, I will leave it at that. That being said, someone in this house needs to stay grounded and focused, and that me, I am the grounded one.
I am also a tenor. A strong one. The whole street knows my voice, and I consider that a professional accomplishment.
Bentley — Sean and Heather's
Lab, age 10½
My name is Bentley and I am the old man of the block. Ten and a half years old and I have earned every grey hair.
Heather got me because family is everything to her. Sean worked nights, the kids made promises about walking and feeding me that we all knew how that was going to go, and Heather decided that if a dog was good for this family then this family was getting a dog. She took on every single responsibility without complaint because that is exactly who Heather is. I chose her right back.
I should mention that dogs like me are the entire reason this neighborhood has each other's garage codes. When families go away for a day or a weekend someone needs to let the dogs out, feed them, check on them. It has been that way for years, long before my time, with dogs and neighbors who have come and gone. The tradition continues. You are welcome, entire neighborhood.
Now. About Jay.
Jay came over one weekend to let me out. Jay is a large man. Jay thought that was going to matter. It did not. I had things to say to Jay that I will not repeat here, and I said them loudly and at length until he backed away from my kennel completely unable to open the door.
I prefer women. I am not ashamed of this. Nikki — lovely. Jay — we have an understanding now, which is that he stays on his side of the kennel door and I stay on mine.
Heather always put her family first. I put Heather first. That is the deal and it has worked out beautifully for ten and a half years.
Oliver and Coltie — Tom and Karina's
Oliver, Husky-American Eskimo mix, age 11. Coltie, mini American Eskimo, estimated age 8.
Oliver here, Coltie and I have a lot in common — we both needed a little help when we came to Tom and Karina, and they both showed up for us in a big way. Major surgeries, long rehab, the whole thing. They said it was temporary. We knew better. Once you let someone nurse you back to health and take you on daily walks, roughhouse with you in the living room, and let you become a bonded pair — there is no going back. We are not fosters anymore. We are family. And honestly? We run this part of the street together.
Archie — Mike and Bev's
Golden Doodle, age 1
HELLO. I AM ARCHIE. I just turned one in March, and I have a LOT of energy and opinions and things to say and places to be and, sorry. I am working on that.
I came to Mike and Bev after they lost Cody. I want to be respectful here because Cody was clearly a very good boy and he is still very much loved and mentioned often. I am not trying to replace Cody. Nobody could. What I am trying to do is be so goofy and fearless and cuddly and loud that everyone eventually has to smile even when they miss him.
Bev was ready for me. Mike took a little longer. He still brings up Cody sometimes when I do something wrong which — fair, honestly, I do a lot of things wrong. I am ONE. But I am making progress and I have noticed Mike softening. Especially at the cottage.
The cottage was Cody's favorite place in the whole world. I understand why. I have made it my mission to love it just as much, in my own way, at my own volume, with significantly more chaos. I think Cody would approve. I really do.
Give me a year. I'll win Mike over completely. Watch.
Quinn — Nikki's
Shih Tzu Teddy Bear Mix, age 11
My name is Quinn and I need you to understand something about how I got here.
Nikki and Jay are large dog people. Magnum, Tanner, Coda, Bodi — big dogs, all of them. Then there was Ella the beagle, who arrived after a spontaneous trip to the Humane Society while Jay was sleeping. Just to see the cute doggies, Nikki said. Jay woke up to an application for a beagle submitted against three other families. He agreed only because he thought the odds were against them. They were not. Ella came home and introduced everyone to the concept of baying, which is not barking, it is something else entirely, and once they adjusted to that they actually loved it.
Then in 2019 they found themselves dogless for the first time in years. A Facebook post appeared. A friend of a friend needed to rehome a small, non-shedding, completely house-trained four-year-old dog. Nikki saw it while out of town and messaged immediately. On the way home they stopped to take a look.
Nikki scooped me up and asked if she could take me home for a test run.
Reader, I never went back.
I am everything the previous dogs were not. I am simply adorable in the numerous outfits mom dresses me in. I stand on my back feet for treats like a circus performer. I fit in a sink for bath time. I do not shed, nor leave a trail of anything anywhere, and I only bark at large dogs. I do not make the rules. I simply enforce them at my discretion. I am, in every possible way, the daughter Jay never had.
He says he doesn't like me. He is wrong. I have seven years of evidence.
Nine dogs. One street. Zero shortage of personality.
What I did not expect when I moved here eighteen years ago was that the dogs would become part of the glue, the reason we have each other's codes, the reason we check on one another, the reason a weekend away always includes a group text asking who can help. They have given us reasons to knock on each other's doors, reasons to laugh, and in some cases reasons to ugly cry in the best possible way.
Cody still comes up in conversation. Ella still makes me smile when I think about her baying at full volume as we walked the neighborhood and people began peering out their windows to see what was making such a godawful noise. And every dog before them that called this street home left something behind.
These nine though — they run this street now. And honestly? We wouldn't have it any other way.
— Nikki, Quinn's mom, Bentley's least favorite human's wife
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