This is my final post as BlogHer's pets contributing editor. I will be moving back to photography coverage, and continuing to cover extended family issues on the alternate weeks. My friend and colleague Heather Clisby will be guiding you through the fun and ever-changing world of pet and animal blogs from now on.
Because this is my last pets post, I'd like to leave you with a reflection on why we have pets in the first place, such that they'd get a category here at BlogHer, such that they'd get a weird reality show, such that they'd have a place in the culture that is unrivaled by other non-human breathing entitites.
Why do human beings have pets? Why do you, if you do? Why did I, for 13 years, give a large part of my time and a good part of my heart over to two tiny dogs?
For me, it was family tradition combined with an obsession with getting a dog when I "grew up" and was out on my own. I got Boston Terriers because my grandmother had them throughout her life and I feel an extraordinary connection to them, partially as a result of her but mostly because they're awesome and hilarious dogs - for people who don't mind being followed around and nagged at the heels 24/7, that is. They have silly, affectionate, stubborn personalities and they mesh into families well (which is to say they will come to run the house and allow you to live there and pay their mortgage and buy their food and toys.) They're also completely neurotic and on a bad day a little insane so it's good if you can handle that. They don't need to be walked a lot (which is excellent if one is prone to lazy mornings) and their grooming is easy. Finally, they're in the "so ugly they're cute" category for a lot of people who don't understand that they're incredibly beautiful, and people who didn't think they were either of those - well, I say with a smile - those are probably cat people anyway.
It could be said that I got dogs just to act on my neuroses, but I'll say in all honesty that any of those things I did, well, I blame low blood sugar. It's true, SOME pet people can seem quite strange. SOME of us dress our animals up in unfortunate costumes,
and get photos taken with Santa and talk to them incessantly as though they can not only hear but hold up their end of the conversation. Some are even prone to talking in the third person about themselves, i.e., "Mom doesn't like it when you throw up on the rug, dude," and then shuddering with horror when "they" hear the words that just came out of their mouths.
Some pet people spend money on ridiculous things, like paw-sized rainboots and gourmet peanut butter treats and a t-shirt that has "ROCKSTAR" emblazoned on the back with rhinestones. But they also work hard, you know. They get up at 6 a.m. to walk a big dog who needs to go for a mile or two, and go to great lengths to get a recalcitrant cat into a carrier for a trip to the vet. They stress over the bills for that vet and in most cases pay them anyway. They take great pains to explain the passing of a hamster or a Guinea pig to a child, and even hold elaborate backyard burials in those cases where it's called for.
"They" (ahem, ahem) may even consult a pet behaviorist when they are awakened by their beloved nine-month-old-not-quite-a-puppy pooping on their HEAD in bed at 3 a.m.. They may then feel incredibly guilty but likewise do not punch this behaviorist in the face when she says that it is all the pet person's fault because she - er, they - did not "assert herself as the alpha and clearly he's angry because of your new work schedule."
Right. Of course. And they will, as a result, drink perhaps more wine than is wise in the face of this personal alpha female failing and take the puppy out five extra times before bedtime and pray to God that never happens again because how much can a girl take? Still, they will not think, not once, well maybe once but not a time more than that, of discarding the animal or not hugging him when he come snuffling around the couch having completely forgotten the incident, and will merely file this story away in the happy hour archives for years to come.
"Hey'd I ever tell you about the time my dog pooped on my head? And that I cried and threw him on the floor in a still-asleep daze while the other one dove under the bed because hey she may have eaten Aveeno bath that time but she won't get fooled again? And then I cried again because I threw him on the floor kind of hard by mistake and I felt guilty? And then we went to the pet behaviorist - NO, God no, NOT a psychic!"
Pets are not always easy. They are expensive and demanding and annoying at times. They require exercise and restroom services in terrible weather, and they will unfailingly step in the worst stuff in the yard right after the bath. They will not have you call the 24-hour emergency line because they ate Aveeno (which could be clearly seen by the oatmeal mustache on her little black and white face) because it says on the packet that it's totally nontoxic. They will, however, have you call because they ate a pack of cigarettes, and then a jewelry box, sometime in the halcyon months AFTER they pooped on your head.
But my dogs - and why I had them - had everything to do with this stuff along with the best feelings that never went away, including, I have to say, the funny and stupid times that resulted because I knew absolutely nothing about what it took to get a being-that-does-not-speak-any-spoken-language to do my will. I remember the annoyances, sure, but they're just part of the package. The happy stuff is way more clear and it's amazing how much it comes into my mind unbidden. I remember coming home from work and dancing in my empty dining room to the Beatles' White Album with both of them up on hind legs. I remember them standing up and looking out the window of the moving truck almost the whole way back to Maryland from Ohio. I remember the joy they brought to my parents who never had a dog in the house and who, over a period of loves, fell stupidly in love (take that, haters) with two animals who took them away completely from the stress of jobs they'd had for too long and caregiving for aging parents that has often stressed their spirits. And mostly, I just remember what now I miss the most, which is looking over and seeing them snoozing on the rug, or on the sofa. I remember them looking out the door and jumping up and down with happiness when I was walking up the sidewalk. I remember them as part of my household, and I remember them most - and most sadly, now - because there's a huge hole where they were.
And in the life of pets outside of my own, which is vast and awesome, I've seen the reasons why they're so important to people time and time again. I know my friends' dogs and cats well and know how important they are to them. I see on the news when disasters occur how people are so devastated over the loss of their animals, or refuse to leave them behind even at physical risk to themselves. I saw the desperately unhappy man in the first nursing home where I worked, who was mean and cranky and no one could get through to, until our local rescue brought puppies in and like some in-your-face sappy public service announcement they jumped all over his bed and he laughed and cried and I hated when they had to leave him because it meant he went back to watching tv and being sad again. It was the first time as an adult that I understood the power of an animal to do what a human could not accomplish.
I lost some of my inspiration for writing or really even thinking about pets a lot just over five months ago, when I lost the first dog who was completely my own. In the most overwrought of ways Punkin made me take responsibility for SOMETHING when I was a young adult in graduate school who really needed something outside of herself to focus on, and also a living thing to come home to because as great as I know living alone to be, it can be lonely, no doubt about it.
I'm not over it by any means, and know I likely won't ever be, although I'm already learning to tuck that pain into a part of my heart where all the stuff lives that I hated when it happened. I'm learning to make some peace with what I call the hammer that hits you in the head, masquerading as the circle of life.
My dogs lifted me up, and eventually broke my heart. They made me laugh all the time, when they tried to do yoga with me and when they made stupid noises and when they pirouetted in the air in a circular motion. And I have to admit, although I have no idea how it happened or why it is so, I have to say that on the very short list of things that have made me a better person in this haphazard life I lead, they are very near if not at the top. And that is the answer to my own question. That was why I was lucky, and stupid, and smart and destined enough to have pets.
Michele at Mihow posts Tuesdays with Murray, about her cat, every week. I love her most recent photo post, but her lyrical words about him make me smile.
Murray is the hand stirring a pot of Hollandaise sauce, the smile that moves across a person’s face when no one else is looking. Murray is New York City before 9/11, the sound of the teenagers skateboarding out back. Murray is laughter among friends, that first sip of white wine, lightning bugs at dusk. Murray is me before I exchanged my naivety and hope for experience and cynicism. Murray is youth. Murray is a fixed number of minutes and a computer you leave at home. Murray is joy. Murray is the you you thought you would be, and the you you still can.
An article in US News and World Report last month reported that more assisted living facilities and nursing homes are allowing pets, acknowledging the important lifelong role that animals play in the mental and emotional health of many people.
Just ask Loren Shook, CEO of Silverado Senior Living, the San Juan Capistrano, Calif.-based company that operates 17 assisted-living facilities in four states for residents with dementia.
"Pets are useful in reducing depression, anxiety and re-engaging people in life," Shook said. "We are committed to making it work."
Often, when a resident has seen many friends pass away, he or she considers their dog or cat a good friend and part of the family. "It is so important for a person's general happiness in life not to have to give up on one of their last friends," he said.
The Boston Globe Magazine's July 13 issue was devoted to pets (wish I'd found it sooner!) and why we have them. Highlights include a photo essay of the day in the life of a guide dog, how far people should go to save them when they're sick and Robin "MissConduct" Abrahams' piece on why we sing to our dogs.
Do not skip Penny the singing pug at the top. I laughed lovingly out loud and Penny is a lovely falsetto soprano. Says Abrahams:
Why do we love our pets? From a Darwinian perspective, it hardly makes sense to lavish attention and resources on another species. Is today's pet-keeping merely a decadent holdover from a time when cats and dogs had utilitarian value - killing rats, pulling sleds, rescuing Timmy? Or did "survival of the cutest" result in the big-eyed, large-headed, irresistible pets of today that evoke our deepest caretaking instincts?
Vix writes about the "the reason I have so many pets, and the one I lost."
This is how I end up with most of my pets. My heart goes out to both the animals, and the people trying to help them. Each of my pets have similar stories, and that is why I cannot say no. However, the Inn is full. And it will be full for some time. If it weren't ful...kitten #2 would be at my house as we speak. I am in love with her!Therese at the PetSitUSA blog wants to know if others have gone to great lengths to be present for their pets in hard times.
I was curious to what lengths other people have gone to be able to stay with their pets when they are ill so I asked my contacts on LinkedIn and Twitter. I asked if they had ever canceled a social engagement, or taken off work to care for a sick pet. People who answered cited at least one time they’d opted for their pets over other obligations. Everybody who answered absolutely loves their pets takes the responsibility of caring for them seriously. They opted to care for their pets over work, vacations, school, and social engagements…and not one of them regretted it.Laurie White writes at LaurieWrites.
Because it's easier to have puppies than kids. Cheaper too!
Just kidding, but you bring up some good points. My family has always had a dog, they're part of the family!
Posted by: NY Tails | October 01, 2010 at 04:24 PM
You write well will be waiting for your new publications.
Posted by: Antivirus_man | December 05, 2010 at 03:20 PM