Most, perhaps all, of the dogs I know would leap at heroism as if it were a feckless squirrel, should the opportunity present itself at a time when they were on duty and not napping, and in a format they were able to recognize. Opportunities for heroism are very different from squirrels, however, and may not always be obvious to a dog. A squirrel is pretty straightforward. A squirrel is always a squirrel, while an occasion for greatness may be misinterpreted by a dog or overlooked.

Many dogs, while quite good, have lacked opportunities for greatness, especially when their lives are held up to those of fictional dogs like Lassie or Rin Tin Tin. Old Yeller is an example of a humble Adirondacklike dog who achieved greatness, although I am afraid his story ended badly.

Some people complain about present-day dogs, comparing them unfavorably with the heroic dogs of yore. If you listened to the old-timers, you would think that olden day dogs were constantly saving people’s lives and running off burglars and fighting to the death with rampaging wolves and bears on a regular basis, performing circus tricks and herding buffalo in their spare time. Personally, I doubt that the old-timers’ dogs were better than anyone else’s. You have to keep in mind that today’s dogs are under greater pressure than were dogs of previous generations, and they have less freedom.

Most of my dog friends over the years have simply been dogs about town, although some were notorious. Notoriety, at least among dogs, does not preclude likeability. In my experience, a notorious dog about town is still considered a pretty good dog, and even a popular one.

The dog about town used to be a commonplace sight in suburbs and small towns, trotting along in a purposeful manner, stopping briefly to greet friends or chase a cat.

Then times changed, and everybody was working all of the time. Moms hung up their aprons and got jobs outside the home, and the lives of children and dogs became more structured, less free.

In some ways the trend is good. More children are adept at soccer and martial arts and piano. Fewer barking and snarling dogs follow me down the street. Still, I am grateful that I enjoyed the era of long, lax summer vacations, exploring the woods around Quarton Lake with my pretty good dog, Duck.

Do you remember Moses, an airedale type once known as the Mayor of Keene Valley? Moses liked to take up with random hikers and accompany them up and down the mountain trails. One early morning I heard such a clatter in my backyard I was sure it must be a bear. I looked out to see a large metal garbage can rolling around on the ground. A moment later, Moses emerged, tail first. An affable sort, he greeted me with the friendly yet distant dignity that was his trademark and continued on his rounds.

Bailey was a Keene Valley chocolate lab who was often to be seen at the Noon Mark Diner or across the state road at the Mobile station, begging for handouts. J.B., another chocolate lab, had similar habits. I suspect him of Biblical tendencies. Loaves and fishes, that was his preference, although he was known to break into people’s houses and eat pizza off the kitchen counter on occasion.

I have witnessed J.B. stealing loaves of bread from both the school and the grocery. What he really loved, though, was fish. One late spring day he watched me plant corn and tomatoes with fish, a little trick I picked up from Squanto. The next morning I found my tomato plants carefully uprooted and the fish gone.

More recently, the top notorious dog about town was Lila, a black German shepherd mix. Lila mellowed and grew tolerant with age, toward the end allowing customers to enter the hardware store unharassed, no longer making off with toys and running shoes and turkeys and hiding them under her picnic table the way she once did.

Let’s not be too hard on our few remaining dogs about town. What would our quality of life be without them?

Have a good week.