Are Dogs Really Man's Best Friend?
Suggested by Joanna J.
As a writer who seems to have hit a low point in creativity and / or just getting off my ass and writing, I signed myself up to write 31 blog posts during October - one a day - on any subjects that are suggested to me. The only rules for suggestions are that they can't be anything that involve me having to take on a particular viewpoint (so no "Why I Hate Twilight" or "Why Rock Music is the Best Music") - this isn't debating class, and right now I'm not interested in trying to argue something that I may or may not agree with. Anything else goes - it can be a specific subject or a broad one, one that I've written about in the past or something new that will need research. If you're interested in playing along, you can leave a comment here, or email me at thenordicalien@gmail.com. (I'll try and remember to check there, honest!)
I was talking to my ex on whatsapp while I was writing this post, and when he asked me what I was writing, I told him.
"They're not," he said.
"Personally, I think books are man's best friend," I said.
I was expecting him to say something about cats. He's very much a cat person.
"Boobs are man's best friend," said he.
That story has nothing to do with this post, but it made me smile.
Are dogs man's best friend? Many people would say yes.
I am not really a dog person, so my answer is a more restrained, sometimes.
I had a dog once. Actually I had two dogs, sort of, except that the first one - a black Lab puppy called Knight, when I was 9 - was bought by my mother's lodger as a joint present for "the kids" (me and her son, who was a couple years younger than me), and was never really my dog at all. I think Sarah only said he was for the two of us as a way of getting him into the house, since I was never allowed to walk him, rarely allowed to play with him, and he met a sad end after a confrontation with a car when he was only a few months old. (Sarah was a not a big believer in rules, thinking that they stifled kids' and animals' natural growth, and her disdain for such things extended to the idea of keeping a very young puppy on a leash when out in public. Eyeroll.)
But I digress.
I had a dog. Bonni was a Jack Russell - her papers said purebred, although mom and I agreed that this was a load of bollocks. Mama said I could have a puppy for my tenth birthday, providing I was responsible for her, and being folks who didn't really know about the need to get dogs from shelters or friends' litters, or at least from registered breeders, we trundled off to a pet shop in Bushey a few days after I turned ten. This was 1994, before shops stopped selling kittens and puppies. The man in the shop had a bunch of Yorkshire Terrier puppies who looked like hairy rats, and one white ball of fluff with brown patches on. He told us that we wouldn't be able to take any of them home today, as they weren't quite ready to be sold, and I remember almost having a meltdown in the store. While my episodes of behaving badly as a kid can be counted probably on one hand (and certainly on two), I had really wanted a puppy to take home. At that age, patience wasn't my strong suit.
Come to think of it, it still isn't. I get crabby waiting for books to come in the mail. I nearly threw a wobbly on Friday because my couriered package of candy corn and mellowcreme pumpkins didn't arrive.
Anyway.
Mom managed to calm me down, and we decided that even if we had to wait, we'd get one of these puppies. Not one of the Yorkshires - neither mom nor I have ever been fond of that breed - but the white and brown fluffball. We went and told the man, and he seemed shocked that I wanted her. That one? He said. Oh, you can take that one home with you now. I didn't realise you wanted that one.
By this time I had built up quite an amount of loathing for the man, but I was so thrilled to be getting my very own dog that we paid and took her home. This was the beginning of a very strange, tempestuous, often frustrating relationship.
Bonni was neurotic. There really isn't any other way to say it. You know those girls you see on TV and if you're unlucky, in real life - the ones who are quivering masses of tension, who cry every time they get picked last for gym, who cling to their boyfriends as though they have no way of breathing or moving on their own, who treat every disappointment, from relationship breakups to bad grades to broken fingernails as though it were a life-altering crisis? Those girls? Bonni was the canine equivalent. I've never worked out if this was due to abuse that she suffered before we got her, or something that I did wrong, or if she just picked up on my mother's anxiety disorders and tendency to cling. Probably all of the above. My mom can be a limpet at times - although she's better now than she was when I was a kid - and animals definitely pick up on human behaviour. I certainly knew nothing about training a puppy, and I failed her grossly in that regard. And she was almost certainly abused and / or neglected by the pet shop owner, or the breeder before him. When we first took her to the vet, the vet was so furious at her state that she had to leave the room for several minutes before she could talk to us. She had more fleas and worms than the vet had ever seen, there were patches of red, inflamed skin infection on her forelegs, she had mastitis, her tail had been docked, and she was at least four weeks younger than her papers said - meaning that we got her when she was less than a month old.
(I am happy to say that the vet managed to get the pet shop closed down shortly after that, and the shop owner prosecuted.)
I'd like to inject a serious piece of advice / warning here - don't ever buy a dog for a child, or even for yourself, without doing your research first. Find out how to raise a dog right, if you've never raised one before. Research different breed characteristics to find out what sort of breed / mix would suit you, rather than just buying the first one you find that looks cute. Read as many books as you can and be prepared to shell out the money for a comprehensive obedience / house-training course if you're buying a puppy. Don't even consider getting a dog if you have a hair-trigger temper, or an aversion to rules, or control issues.
We did it wrong. We loved our puppy, but we should never have had her. We didn't have the money to get her professionally trained, and she was untrainable at home. We didn't have the time and energy to walk her for the several hours a day that a dog with so much energy required. Mom has always had issues with control, and having had children who were almost unfailingly obedient and respectful, she took Bonni's disobedience and challenges to authority as a personal insult. We screwed up in every possible way. This is what I mean when I say that I am not a dog person. I don't have the patience or personal skills to raise a dog to be happy and well-adjusted. I can just barely handle cats.
But oh, how I loved her, even when she drove me round the bend. During the first year, we took her to school quite often to show her off to the other kids. As a young dog, she enjoyed the company of people she didn't know, although she got crabby around strangers when she got older. We used to walk in the woods after school most days, for an hour or so. Other days we'd go to the park and throw sticks. She had an incredible grip - something Jack Russells are known for - and she loved to play tug-of-war with sticks or her leash. Imagine the horror that mom and I experienced when we were playing one day and a couple of her teeth flew out. We rushed her straight to the vet, who laughed and explained that puppies lose their milk teeth, same as human kids. Neither of us had had any idea.
When she got a little older, we got her one of the microchip passports, and took her to Spain with us, where we used to run along the beach and bark and the waves. Yes, we. I've done my share of running and barking.
As she got older, she got more and more clingy. She'd cry if you left her outside for more than five minutes, even in the summer. She'd cry when you locked her in the kitchen. She was a compulsive licker and jumper. My allergies worsened as I got older, to the point that I had red weals over my body most of the time from her dander, and if she licked me my skin would start to peel off, so I didn't spend as much cuddling time as she wanted. (Although I think anything less than 100% of the time would have been less than she wanted.) I wish there'd been a dog whisperer around to help me train her and make her feel better, but at that time I'd never heard of such a thing.
She reminds me of my mother in so many ways.
Bonni survived until she was 16, when she started getting sick. We're not sure what was wrong with her, because she didn't make it to the vet's appointment. She had a big lump on her head one day. The next day it was bigger and she was having trouble walking and standing up. Next day she was gone.
Sometimes I think I would like to get a dog again. I like dogs much in the way that I like children - that is, I like to borrow a friend's and then be able to give them back at the end of the day. I like to read about dogs. Dean Koontz writes his canine companions particularly well - some are super-smart, genetically engineered dogs (he's a thriller / sci-fi writer) and others are ordinary, friendly, loyal, wonderful pups that anyone would be thrilled to call part of the family.
I read Koontz, and I think I want this. Then I realise, I don't really know how to cope with family.
Dogs probably are man's best friend. That said, not all people do well having best friends. Some of us find too much closeness to be stifling. Some of us don't like having anyone around who relies on us too much. And that's OK.
After all, there's always cats.
Or Pokemon.
Some of Dean Koontz's books with awesome dogs:
Watchers - featuring a genetically enhanced golden retriever with a wicked sense of humor - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32423.Watchers .
One Door Away From Heaven - featuring a boy who can form human-dog friendship bonds - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15746.One_Door_Away_from_Heaven .
The Darkest Evening of the Year - featuring a dog who came back as an angel - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/379316.The_Darkest_Evening_of_the_Year .
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