JUST A DOG
'Just a dog'? There's no such thing
Maryanne Dell
Pets columnistThe Orange County Registermdell@ocregister.com
A friend sent me this via e-mail. The words weren't attributed to anyone, but they struck a deep, deep chord – a chord often played by not just dog owners, but also by cat, horse, rabbit, guinea pig, mouse, rat, pig, reptile – and every other kind of animal you might name – owners.
With apologies to the writer for not being able to identify him or her:
"From time to time, people tell me, 'Lighten up; it's just a dog,' or, 'That's a lot of money for just a dog.'
"They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent or the costs involved for 'just a dog.'
"Some of my proudest moments have come about with 'just a dog.' Many hours have passed and my only company was 'just a dog,' but I did not once feel slighted.
"Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by 'just a dog,' and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of 'just a dog' gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.
"If you, too, think it's 'just a dog,' then you will probably understand phases like 'just a friend,' 'just a sunrise' or 'just a promise.'
" 'Just a dog' brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust and pure, unbridled joy.
" 'Just a dog' brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. Because of 'just a dog' I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.
"So, for me and folks like me, it's not 'just a dog' but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.
" 'Just a dog' brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.
"I hope that someday they can understand that it's not 'just a dog' but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being 'just a human.' "
I read this and think of a friend whose journeys this year have taken her far and wide in efforts to find out what's ailing one of her dogs, a little agility star who's been holding one of her legs up when she exerts herself. Is it a luxating patella – a kneecap that slips out of position? Something going on with her spine?
Many vet exams, an ultrasound, MRI, exams by a canine physical therapist and several neurologists later, she still isn't sure.
And this comes on the heels of many dollars spent on her other dogs and cats.
I read it and think of friends who persist in agility, freestyle, obedience or other dog sports year after year, working hard and spending big bucks so that they can forge a better relationship with their dogs.
I read it and think of another friend, who lost her good friend Gracie in November and regrets not a second of the time and money and energy spent in an effort to extend the little Jack Russell's life.
I read it and think of friends who, like me, often come home and simply curl up on the couch with their pets. My nightly unwind ritual consists of getting into bed with my canine crew and pulling one – or all them – into my lap while I read or watch TV.
No matter how frustrating, stressful or long my day has been, at that point it all disappears amid kisses and soft fur.
My life is dogs. If I don't take one or a couple of them with me when I travel, they are always waiting for me when I return. My private life involves agility classes and seminars, training sessions, therapy work and finding homes for dogs others have abandoned.
What strikes me, constantly, is that, to many people, dogs are "just dogs"; animals of all kinds are "just animals." Last week's dog of the week was a 10-year-old whose owners decided they could no longer cope with both him and young children. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that reason given for giving up an animal, I wouldn't have to work every day.
Likewise the "I'm moving to a place where I can't have a pet" excuse.
People mean well, I like to think, but many of them do consider them "just dogs," or "just cats" or "just an animal" – easily disposed of, easily replaced.
Sadly, our society makes them "just animals." Open this newspaper any day of the week (or just glance at the bottom of this page), and you can see many, many animals for sale, advertised in exactly the same way one might advertise a vehicle that had outlived its usefulness.
We treat animals like property, and our laws view them that way.
I think we need to rearrange our thinking.
They aren't "just dogs," "just cats," "just ... whatever."
They're thinking, feeling, emotional (yes, I said emotional. Anthropomorphic? Maybe. But valid? Maybe) beings with far more rights than that car sitting in your driveway.
What they bring us is the intangibility of love, of happiness, of peace, of security.
My life is dogs, and I love that. My dogs aren't black and white, like my truck. They're complicated beings who, like people, change as life affects them.
There's nothing simple about them. And there's nothing simple about my relationship with them.
There's nothing "just a dog" about it.
Contact the writer: mdell@ocregister.com
Maryanne Dell
Pets columnistThe Orange County Registermdell@ocregister.com
A friend sent me this via e-mail. The words weren't attributed to anyone, but they struck a deep, deep chord – a chord often played by not just dog owners, but also by cat, horse, rabbit, guinea pig, mouse, rat, pig, reptile – and every other kind of animal you might name – owners.
With apologies to the writer for not being able to identify him or her:
"From time to time, people tell me, 'Lighten up; it's just a dog,' or, 'That's a lot of money for just a dog.'
"They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent or the costs involved for 'just a dog.'
"Some of my proudest moments have come about with 'just a dog.' Many hours have passed and my only company was 'just a dog,' but I did not once feel slighted.
"Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by 'just a dog,' and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of 'just a dog' gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.
"If you, too, think it's 'just a dog,' then you will probably understand phases like 'just a friend,' 'just a sunrise' or 'just a promise.'
" 'Just a dog' brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust and pure, unbridled joy.
" 'Just a dog' brings out the compassion and patience that make me a better person. Because of 'just a dog' I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.
"So, for me and folks like me, it's not 'just a dog' but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.
" 'Just a dog' brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.
"I hope that someday they can understand that it's not 'just a dog' but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being 'just a human.' "
I read this and think of a friend whose journeys this year have taken her far and wide in efforts to find out what's ailing one of her dogs, a little agility star who's been holding one of her legs up when she exerts herself. Is it a luxating patella – a kneecap that slips out of position? Something going on with her spine?
Many vet exams, an ultrasound, MRI, exams by a canine physical therapist and several neurologists later, she still isn't sure.
And this comes on the heels of many dollars spent on her other dogs and cats.
I read it and think of friends who persist in agility, freestyle, obedience or other dog sports year after year, working hard and spending big bucks so that they can forge a better relationship with their dogs.
I read it and think of another friend, who lost her good friend Gracie in November and regrets not a second of the time and money and energy spent in an effort to extend the little Jack Russell's life.
I read it and think of friends who, like me, often come home and simply curl up on the couch with their pets. My nightly unwind ritual consists of getting into bed with my canine crew and pulling one – or all them – into my lap while I read or watch TV.
No matter how frustrating, stressful or long my day has been, at that point it all disappears amid kisses and soft fur.
My life is dogs. If I don't take one or a couple of them with me when I travel, they are always waiting for me when I return. My private life involves agility classes and seminars, training sessions, therapy work and finding homes for dogs others have abandoned.
What strikes me, constantly, is that, to many people, dogs are "just dogs"; animals of all kinds are "just animals." Last week's dog of the week was a 10-year-old whose owners decided they could no longer cope with both him and young children. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that reason given for giving up an animal, I wouldn't have to work every day.
Likewise the "I'm moving to a place where I can't have a pet" excuse.
People mean well, I like to think, but many of them do consider them "just dogs," or "just cats" or "just an animal" – easily disposed of, easily replaced.
Sadly, our society makes them "just animals." Open this newspaper any day of the week (or just glance at the bottom of this page), and you can see many, many animals for sale, advertised in exactly the same way one might advertise a vehicle that had outlived its usefulness.
We treat animals like property, and our laws view them that way.
I think we need to rearrange our thinking.
They aren't "just dogs," "just cats," "just ... whatever."
They're thinking, feeling, emotional (yes, I said emotional. Anthropomorphic? Maybe. But valid? Maybe) beings with far more rights than that car sitting in your driveway.
What they bring us is the intangibility of love, of happiness, of peace, of security.
My life is dogs, and I love that. My dogs aren't black and white, like my truck. They're complicated beings who, like people, change as life affects them.
There's nothing simple about them. And there's nothing simple about my relationship with them.
There's nothing "just a dog" about it.
Contact the writer: mdell@ocregister.com
posted by Connie @ Friday, March 23, 2007
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