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The future is most bleak for overweight Yorkshire terriers, which die two years and six months earlier than normal weight dogs of the same breed. German shepherds see their odds of mortality fall the least, being found to die five months earlier if they are overweight. Researchers from the University of Liverpool say overweight dogs, like humans, are at risk from cancer, high blood pressure and heart and kidney problems.

These can all cut their lives short, with owners advised to weigh their pets, make sure they get enough exercise and stop feeding them treats from the kitchen table. A genetic analysis of the world's oldest known dog remains revealed that dogs were domesticated in a single event by humans living in Eurasia, around 20, to 40, years ago. Dr Krishna Veeramah, an assistant professor in evolution at Stony Brook University, told MailOnline: 'The process of dog domestication would have been a very complex process, involving a number of generations where signature dog traits evolved gradually.

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Comments Share what you think. View all. More top stories. Bing Site Web Enter search term: Search. Download our iPhone app Download our Android app. Today's headlines Most Read Stunning image of the Milky Way captured using radio waves giving us a 'brand new view' of our galaxy NASA shared a video of an astronaut throwing debris into space on its Instagram page today and channeled the Some breeds such as labradors, basset hounds, and cavalier King Charles spaniels are more prone to obesity. Lack of proper exercise is another problem, said another of the charity's vets, Elaine Pendlebury.

She told the BBC that people underestimated the amount their dogs required. An energetic border collie may need 10 miles of walking a day. The charity is offering owners the chance to give their pets what it calls a "new leash of life" by joining its slimming competition and pet "fit club".

Topics Animal welfare. Animals news. And over this great demesne Buck ruled.


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Here he was born, and here he had lived the four years of his life. It was true, there were other dogs. There could not but be other dogs on so vast a place, but they did not count. They came and went, resided in the populous kennels, or lived obscurely in the recesses of the house after the fashion of Toots, the Japanese pug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, strange creatures that rarely put nose out of doors or set foot to ground. On the other hand, there were the fox terriers, a score of them at least, who yelped fearful promises at Toots and Ysabel looking out of the windows at them and protected by a legion of housemaids armed with brooms and mops.

But Buck was neither house dog nor kennel dog. The whole realm was his. He plunged into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge's sons; he escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge's daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles; on wintry nights he lay at the Judge's feet before the roaring library fire; he carried the Judge's grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard, and even beyond, where the paddocks were, and the berry patches.

Among the terriers he stalked imperiously, and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was king--king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller's place, humans included. His father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard, had been the Judge's inseparable companion, and Buck bid fair to follow in the way of his father.

He was not so large--he weighed only one hundred and forty pounds--for his mother, She, had been a Scotch shepherd dog. Nevertheless, one hundred and forty pounds, to which was added the dignity that comes of good living and universal respect, enabled him to carry himself in right royal fashion. During the four years since his puppyhood he had lived the life of a sated aristocrat; he had a fine pride in himself, was even a trifle egotistical, as country gentlemen sometimes become because of their insular situation.

But he had saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house dog.

Hunting and kindred outdoor delights had kept down the fat and hardened his muscles; and to him, as to the cold-tubbing races, the love of water had been a tonic and a health preserver. And this was the manner of dog Buck was in the fall of , when the Klondike strike dragged men from all the world into the frozen North. But Buck did not read the newspapers, and he did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener's helpers, was an undesirable acquaintance. Manuel had one besetting sin. He loved to play Chinese lottery. Also, in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness--faith in a system; and this made his damnation certain.

For to play a system requires money, while the wages of a gardener's helper do not lap over the needs of a wife and numerous progeny. The Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers' Association, and the boys were busy organizing an athletic club, on the memorable night of Manuel's treachery.

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No one saw him and Buck go off through the orchard on what Buck imagined was merely a stroll. And with the exception of a solitary man, no one saw them arrive at the little flag station known as College Park.

This man talked with Manuel, and money chinked between them. Buck had accepted the rope with quiet dignity. To be sure, it was an unwonted performance but he had learned to trust in men he knew, and to give them credit for a wisdom that outreached his own.

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But when the ends of the rope were placed in the stranger's hands, he growled menacingly. He had merely intimated his displeasure, in his pride believing that to intimate was to command. But to his surprise the rope tightened around his neck, shutting off his breath. In a quick rage he sprang at the man, who met him halfway, grappled him close by the throat, and with a deft twist threw him over on his back.

Then the rope tightened mercilessly, while Buck struggled in a fury, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his great chest panting futilely.

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Never in all his life had he been so vilely treated, and never in all his life had he been so angry. But his strength ebbed, his eyes glazed, and he knew nothing when the train was flagged and the two men threw him into the baggage car. The hoarse shriek of a locomotive whistling a crossing told him where he was. He had traveled too often with the Judge not to know the sensation of riding in a baggage car. He opened his eyes, and into them came the unbridled anger of a kidnaped king. The man sprang for his throat, but Buck was too quick for him.

His jaws closed on the hand, nor did they relax till his senses were choked out of him once more. A crack dog doctor there thinks that he can cure him. Concerning that night's ride, the man spoke most eloquently for himself, in a little shed back of a saloon on the San Francisco water front. His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, and the right trouser leg was ripped from knee to ankle. The kidnaper undid the bloody wrappings and looked at his lacerated hand.


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Dazed, suffering intolerable pain from throat and tongue, with the life half throttled out of him, Buck attempted to face his tormentors. But he was thrown down and choked repeatedly, till they succeeded in filing the heavy brass collar from off his neck.

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Then the rope was removed, and he was flung into a cage-like crate. There he lay for the remainder of the weary night, nursing his wrath and wounded pride. He could not understand what it all meant. What did they want with him, these strange men? Why were they keeping him pent up in this narrow crate? He did not know why, but he felt oppressed by the vague sense of impending calamity.

Several times during the night he sprang to his feet when the shed door rattled open, expecting to see the Judge, or the boys at least. But each time it was the bulging face of the saloon-keeper that peered in at him by the sickly light of a tallow candle.