Here are some musings about one co-op dog:

PUPPY

Puppy, a Norwegian Elkhound of female persuasion was a typical co-op pet. She was the product of a broken home, her human parent having been forced to abandon her when she had to vacate her apartment, through lack of centralized heating, and her new landlord had a rigid NO PET policy. Puppy had also had the misfortune to have been "knocked up" by a neighboring dog by the name of Willow, who bore a remarkable resemblance to a hyena, a litter of more ugly puppies can not be imagined. However, Maxine and I came to her rescue, having also being forced to move out of the now furnaceless apartment building, but fortunately we had already made plans to pioneer a new housing co-operative with some of our music and political friends.

"Puppy" never acquired a more dignified name, which may be typical for adopted animals. She soon made herself welcome with our new housemates; she was particularly thrilled with Steve and Robin's waterbed. She also became the terror of the local gray squirrels, stalking them low to the ground, using a nearby tree to help shield her approach. Puppy was most definitely not a vegetarian. Although extremely friendly with her co-op "pack" Puppy also was a terror to anyone in uniform (a byproduct perhaps of her early political training), be that mail carrier, policeman, or serviceperson; she would bark and snarl, tree them if possible, and then sit back and look proud. She was also very territorial with regard to garbage pick-up day; the entire block was her domain and no bag could be moved before she had personally inspected it. As I remember it, one day she returned home especially pleased with a garbage bag around her shoulders, with her head sticking out the middle. I'm amazed that our neighbors were not more offended by her, but after a few years of residence we did become one of the more established residences on our block.
When I decided to leave Michigan and Rivendell Co-op in 1982 to return to Maine, one of the leaving ceremonies was focused on Puppy. At our collective dinner one evening we decided to take her to the Lansing Zoo (you know, the one over at Potter Park) to visit with some real elks. This seemed like an irresistibly good idea at the time, and I'm not even sure if it was inspired at all by any "special brownies." However, we knew we could never achieve this adventure by bringing her in the front gate, although there was some discussion of disguising her as a see-and-eye-dog, an idea which was quickly dropped because of her predictably rude behavior in the presence of authority figures. Thus, we planned this foray for the dark of night, with access over an abandoned railroad trestle that entered the rear of the park. Hours later we all piled into a pickup truck and made our way to the railroad trestle, and contrary to some peoples' stories everything went like clockwork, good clockwork. We found an elk cage with elk inside and Puppy actually got to go nose to nose with one massive elk. Puppy, however, was more thrilled by the cage of wolves, who appeared equally thrilled to see her, raising one unholy din and persuading us to abort an otherwise fascinating foray as torch lights appeared from the security shack.
Puppy did make it to Maine with me, terrorizing a new neighborhood of squirrels in Portland before finally retiring to my parents' farm. Then one day she went out into the woods and didn't return. Sad, it's true, but I like to think of her spirit still out there in the woods, keeping the squirrels on their toes.