LaurieWrites

Why We Have Pets

Crossposted from BlogHer.

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.

From the pet blogs, and blogs that are sometimes about pets: BlogHim Andrew at Running With Dogs points out today's quote from Michael Phelps that in the middle of all of this Olympic history, he's really missing his dog. Several writers have shared their stories about why "I Love My Cat" in this category at the Experience Project. Other groups include "I Love Dogs and Have One" and "I Couldn't Picture Life Without 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.

Good People Day '08 For Real

Okay, I said I'd do this, so I will. Also, I'm up obscenely early even though the jet lag craziness is finally over (it took a long time! Way longer than I thought it would...)

The topic of "good people" is so broad and when I sit - or recline, as the case may be much more frequently these days - to write these kinds of posts I often get overwhelmed and then I stop and write some treatise about my hair or something. It's not because I'm shallow, honestly, quite the opposite unfortunately, but the bigger things are sometimes the hardest to write about. Especially when I'm strapped for time, which lately is every day. But I have been really thinking a lot lately about "good people", particularly as so many have touched my life and just my consciousness given that I consume a lot of information about a lot of things on a daily basis. (And also apparently now I write in broad strokes of generalities of nothingness. What the fuck is wrong with you, woman? Where are your details?)

Here's something specific: animal rescue people are angels. I've been searching for somewhere to place my grief and rack of assorted emotions about my dog and therefore I've been trolling through Petfinder. You say "masochist." I say "We all deal in our own peculiar way and a lot of times mine is very peculiar, but I'm also quite interesting on a good day." It's not as bad as when I first got online ELEVEN years ago (oh my word) My boyfriend at the time had basically moved into my house, which although he really got on my nerves from the beginning was okay because aside from providing me with certain perks, shall we say, he was a minor league techie who knew how to set up my computer and also assembled my workstation. Really, the writing was on the wall there about so many things, looking back.

Anyway, like everyone else at the time I got an AOL account, and immediately dissolved into the Internet, never to fully reemerge. I was obsessed from the gate. One night in particular stands out, when he woke up at 3 a.m. to me sobbing and looking at pet memorial pages, and forbade me (haha, whatever, that makes me laugh, which is why I'll die single) to ever go on one again. I don't frequent such sites anymore, but it's for self-preservation and an immediate need to scream whenever I hear the term "rainbow bridge".

That said, please say hello to Pappy. Oh my God, so cute, I can't stand it.  He's a senior dog who needs a home because of God knows what, someone died or some asshole got tired of him or someone had a baby and is lame and doesn't understand that a dog with any amount of Boston in him is the best babysitter ever, or whatever happens when animals get surrendered. If I had the space and the means (i.e., if I lived alone, which I don't) and the emotional bravery to take on another animal at this point I would, but I don't and don't know when I ever will. In my wealthy dreams I bankroll a spa for retired older lady Bostons who were used as breeders and treated like crap

The people who run the HART (Homeless Animal Rescue Team) shelter in Fairfax are taking care of him. They have a sponsorship program, so even if you can't take a dog or a cat or a rabbit or whatever, you can set up a PayPal donation plan. I did it last night - it was incredibly easy, and even though he won't be "my" dog, I feel good knowing I pitched some food or a blanket his way. I think this is the way I can be a supporter although not a direct caregiver/dog person.

That's my good people. I could really fill hours focusing on the positive, so there should be more here...but that's a good start.

The L-Word

What? Loser? Lesbian? Lay-a-bed?

I've always liked that one. Lay-a-bed. Anyway, I hate headlines that make me work. And in this case, the fact that I didn't automatically know they meant "liberal" either makes me completely stupid, burnt out on all things Obama, or...something.

And yes, this does mean I'm back, deconstructing American mainstream media so you don't have to, and now you'll have more time to peruse People.com. Relieved? I know, me too. 15 hours of sleep since 4 p.m. yesterday and I think I'm pretty much ready to rock and roll, until sometime tonight when I pass out again.

But first, tonight, a welcome home Girlyman show! I can't think of a better way to come back home than two days of sleep and one of my favorite bands playing live. It takes away an infinitesimal (which is to say almost nonexistent) bit of the sting of walking in the door completely wired and exhausted to a dogless house and a beautiful package from Heavenly Days that includes what remains of my little guy. My feelings about this are the size of the world, shrunk down to the reentry lunch with my mother when we talked about it so I'd understand exactly what happened, and the half hour I spent sitting at the dining room table with him as soon as I got home. I have lots of tears for him, it turns out, 13 years of memories worth, I guess, which makes them the most essential kind.

As much as I knew it was true, I still can't believe it. I can't believe that's him in there, topped off with a sympathy note and a guardian angel pin of a dog with a halo and wings. My mother made all of his stuff go away because my parents couldn't stand it (I can't imagine what it was like, being here) and didn't want me to have to either, but it's still terrible, either way. I came downstairs when I finally woke up to the sun shining through the screen door and call me crazy, but because it's early spring and the perfect slice of light was hitting the entry way, I was genuinely surprised not to see him stretched out all Punkin-yoga style in it. It's really quiet around here.

BlogHer Love

I wrote my weekly post there about losing my dog. 

I guess it makes sense since I'm the pet editor. And with that, I will put my sweetie pie dog to rest.

Punkin

My dog died today, on the other side of the world.

My post ís correcting itself based on the Vietnamese alphabet, which underscores the whole distance thing. It's a little frustrating. It in fact may show up with Vietnamese accents, because I'm seeing several of those so far that it's hard to do anything about.

He died at home, with my parents. My mom wrote me, because I don't have a phone here, and I just learned it tonight, after getting in from a place called Saloon 17, where someone requested Juice Newton's "Lay Back in the Arms of Someone", and the (very young) band nailed it.

That's one of those colorful details, you know.

It sounds dumb to say that my heart is broken in a new place, but it is. I know he made it to 13, and he had so many wonderful years with all of us. But whenever anyone dies - person or animal, holy shit, even a dream if you want to get technical - that's been important to our lives, it really dóesn't so much matter how old they were. I don't want to die. Do you? And I wanted him to live forever, plain and simple. I can't imagine my life anymore without him. It's going to be really hard. He was the best.

Mom said he had several stroke-like episodes, and finally just went to sleep. She said she and my father were actually quite relieved for him, because he was struggling so bad at that point (And that, Mr. Euthanasia below, is when it all starts to make sense.)

I'm glad that they didn't have to choose that for him, especially with me gone, and that they were with him, because they took such amazing care òf him over the past several years since I've been back in Maryland. They helped me care for him and do things that I couldn't have afforded. They opened up the house to the three of us - me and Punkin and Sunshine. She lived there until she died in 2001, and when I moved out to a place that couldn't take animals easily (so many steps, and he was used to his yard by then) he stayed with thẹm. I often joked that I was jealous that he loved them more than he loved me anymore, but it didn't matter. They were champs about it all and I really think he brought them as much ỏr even more than he brought to me.

I'm glad that, as she wrote me, they could set him on his pink poodle blanket (with his ears up, Mom said) and sit with him until the place opened up in the morning where he'll become something entirely different altogether.

And speaking of what he brought me, it was so many things, but in breaking it down tonight, I think it's a sense of home and belonging, plus a healthy dose of responsibility. I had to get home for him, and I had to make sure he was fed and healthy. He sat with me when I watched tv, when I wrote, when I yapped on the phone, and especially when I ate. He had a cookie every time I left the house and was waiting for me so many times when I came home, looking out my parents' screen door. I often picked him up and carried him around, because it was comforting for both of us.

When I got him I lived in Ohio. I was dating an alcoholic who nonetheless was very sweet and loved dogs. He went with me to pick him out and pick him up. Punkin was so small when I brought him home that he could stand in his plate - a dinner plate, which was all I had to feed him on the first day. I also had no couch, but I had a dog. I paid about $300 of my student loan money for him. It was without question the best money ever spent.

I had neither the time nor the money that it took to "train" him, so we made do. He never slept in the several beds I tried to get him to use over the years. It was either with me or my parents. He hated the outdoors, for the most part. He liked eating and he liked to play. He did both with great and powerful energy until two days ago. There would be no languishing here. Come to think of it, there wasn't for either of my dogs. This is something that I am grateful for.

I bonded with this dog to a ridiculous degree. Bostons don't like other dogs as much as they do their people. They want to be with you, and that was him times 1,001. He wanted to know what was going on at all times, and most of the time he wanted to be involved in it. We are similar in that regard.

I really wish I had my own room here. I can't stop crying and I'm in kind of a dicey roommate situation, so I asked but they don't have any more space. What I need is my own space to feel how I feel. Sad. I just feel somewhere past sad. Some of the girls opened up their room to me and spent some time with me and gave me hugs, which was very nice of them because I know it's no fun to deal with someone else's pain on the fly. It's a hard pain to explain to people who haven't had pets, and none of them had, but they were sweet nonetheless.

I will miss him for my lifetime.

My mother's e-mail told me to do the work I came here to do, and to focus, and I really believe that I can do that. It's mostly because I don't have a choice but also because it makes sense and it's the right thing. I just wanted to write about it here now both to get it out and mostly to thank everyone who's read along with me about him over the past few years. Some people have been inexpressibly sweet and very helpful in response, and I really appreciate it. As I told him every day about himself, you all are super nice. And if I could kiss you on the head long-distance, as went the rest of that routine, I surely would.

Unsolicited advice

Call me overly sensitive (go ahead - it's not an original statement) but there are things that just aren't nice to say.

Like, "Euthanasia. You know, mercy killing."

I know how totally stupid and airheaded I look and behave, but I TOTALLY know the definition. And I know when I think it's warranted. And I've actually made the choice before. You know, when I knew it was the right goddamned time.

In spite of my occasional tantrums, I'm far too nice of a person sometimes.

"Cybervigilantes" and Others Respond to Marine Throwing Puppy, Plus This Week's Featured Pet and An Overload of Cute

Cross-posted from BlogHer. Go to that link to vote for your fabulous pet. : )

If someone asked you this week if you heard the one about the Marine, a cliff in Iraq and a puppy, rest assured that it wasn't a joke.

A video popped up on YouTube last week of two United States Marines, one holding a puppy that he then appears to wind up and hurl over the side of a cliff, laughing, while the camera rolls.

YouTube has officially taken it down, although other copies are popping up. The UK Daily Telegraph embedded the clip in their news article about the incident. The video is graphic and may be difficult viewing.

Please note that because neither major news outlets nor the military have officially identified the man, I will not be reprinting his name here and ask that any commenters also refrain from doing so due to the sensitive nature of the situation.

Thanks to Antonette at Unrestricted: My NASCAR Rants and Raves and Leslie Carbone for links to the Marine Corp's response.

Marine Corps Base Hawaii continues to investigate a video of a Marine mistreating a puppy that gained widespread attention on the internet Monday. The content of the video is deplorable and contrary to the high standards we expect of every Marine at home and abroad. MCBH learned of the video Monday morning and immediately began an investigation to confirm the authenticity of the video and the persons responsible for the video. The investigation will be thorough and will examine each person involved. Upon completion of the investigation, it will be reviewed by each Marine's commander who will determine the appropriate action to take in each case. No charges have been filed at this time. In the event that any Marine is charged with an offense, he will be afforded the constitutional and due process protections guaranteed by the Uniform Code of Military Justice. The vast majority of Marines conduct their duties in an honorable and compassionate manner that brings great credit upon the Marine Corps and the United States. There have been numerous stories of Marines adopting pets and bringing them home from Iraq or helping to arrange life-saving medical care for Iraqi children. Those are the stories that exemplify what we stand for and how most Marines behave. If you have a comment regarding this incident we encourage you to visit our Web site and leave a comment or concern at www.mcbh.usmc.mil and click on the mcbh.pao.fct@nmci.usmc.mil e-mail link. Incoming statements and comments will be compiled in a database for use in this situation.

The Humane Society wrote a letter to Sec. of Defense Robert Gates to request that the Marine be punished.

“A videotape widely circulated on the Internet during the last several days depicts a man, who appears to be a U.S. Marine, tossing a yelping puppy over a precipice. We understand that the Marine in the videotape is identifiable, and we therefore expect the Department of Defense to investigate and to take swift and appropriate disciplinary action...Such instances of cruelty are objectionable in their own right, but take on special urgency as we welcome American military personnel home from the war zone,” Pacelle wrote. “While only a few incidents of this kind have come to light, we worry about the psychological stability of those who could perpetrate such vicious acts against the most vulnerable of creatures.

PETA was on the scene as well, with a response and a petition.

While we thank the Marine Corps Base Hawaii (MCBH) for launching a full investigation into this apparent act of extreme animal abuse, we want to make sure that the punishment reflects the serious nature of this violent act. The MCBH should require that the suspects appear before a court-martial and should seek the most severe penalties under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, including discharge from the Corps, for the suspects if they are convicted. The U.S. Marine Corps should also establish a zero-tolerance policy for cruelty to animals, which would help ensure that this is the last time that the U.S. will suspect any of its brave men and women of abusing a defenseless animal during their service to America.

Leslie Carbone writes about the rumors that the puppy wasn't real:

But questions about the video have arisen, in part because the dog doesn't move or make any noise while being held by the scruff of the neck and because yelps heard as it appears that the dog is going over a cliff sound possibly dubbed. These questions haven't stopped death threats against the man believed to be the puppy-throwing Marine. Even his family has faced harassment after their address and phone number were published yesterday. Come on. Yes, the video is disturbing. And whether it's really a doggy snuff film or just a puerile, tasteless hoax, those involved should be disciplined. But death threats are obviously extreme, and harassing the guy's family inappropriate as well. Let's remember the American ideals that our armed services fight to protect, like the presumption of innocence, the right to trial, and the Rule of Law.

Nessalu vlogged her response, twice, after what she said were negative reactions to her first video response. Another YouTuber,  Galaxy Dreams, has recorded a few responses as well, one of the most recent saying that just because she cares about a puppy doesn't mean she lacks concern for other issues.  This last point is to many comments on the Web that claim - often in angry and ugly language - that more attention is being paid to a single dog than the many humans who die in combat, or at least put their lives on the line. Rescue Dog Central says don't think all animal welfare supporters are "wackos."

This is just a reminder to everyone, who is completely outraged over the cruelty incident involving two Marines and a puppy, to keep this situation in perspective. This incident involves two marines, not the entire Marine Corps. Like any other organization that involves and includes human beings, you will witness people conducting themselves in ways that will inspire you and you will witness people doing things that will completely turn your stomach in disgust. Most Marines would not do what these two Marines did, therefore, let us not condemn an entire group of Marines because of the utter disgraceful and completely cruel behavior of two men. Why do we bring this point up? Why would we defend the Marine Corps in the face of an incident that involves two of its men conducting a horrible act of animal cruelty? We bring this point up because we expect people who care for animals to fairly treat others, as we wish them to treat us, by not unfairly condemning and labeling an entire group of people as being cruel based on one act committed by two men.

CitizenSugar mentions the death threats the Marine has allegedly received and hosts a poll about the video.

If you haven't seen it already, you may not want to. I'm talking about the video of a US Marine apparently hurling a small, whimpering puppy off the side of a cliff. I just happened to witness this while watching my morning news. Marine officials are calling the video, which has been taken off YouTube, "shocking and deplorable" and an investigation has been launched. Meanwhile, the alleged puppy thrower and his family have been receiving death threats. Comments on YouTube identified the man, in what is being called "cyber-vigilantism." What do you think about the video?

The accused Marine has also been said to have shut down his MySpace and a Beebo profile as well in response to angry comments, blog and profile posts and threats. ******************************************************************************************************************************** Also this week, BlogHer's Pet(s) of the Week feature debuts. Enter a link to a photo (in a blog post or photostream) of your own or someone else's fabulous pet in Mr. Linky below.

Rascal, a Westie who belongs to BlogHer Political Director Morra Aarons, enthusiastically nominated himself for the first Featured Pet. Morra's been working extra hard to bring us the best of this roller coaster primary season, so it only seems right that Rascal be appointed "First Dog" of BlogHer for the week. He gets half of my one measly electoral vote, anyway.

Morra wants everyone to know that there are not possibly enough photographs of Rascal, who she shares with her husband (and avid pet photographer) Nicco. Morra said:

Is this NOT a pet of the week?

Agreed.

Photo courtesty of Nicco Mele, and made available by Creative Commons from his Flickr photostream

Totally pet-of-the-week material, Morra. The month, even.

Check Nicco's photostream for many, many more - including today's "Sunday morning in bed with Rascal."

Food Contributing Editor Alanna Kellogg shared what she says is a rare photo of her dog Lady on her blog, KitchenParade. It's an excellent shot, and reflects all that blogging and Twittering and Status-Messaging (are we over-stimulated or what?) about "When will this winter ever END? Thanks, Alanna!

Lady gets the other half of my (remarkably bipartisan) vote.


Photo courtesy of Alanna Kellogg at FoodParade.com.

Finally, a Cute Overload Bonus, because it's Sunday and I can: Regular Dooce readers might be familiar with her regular "stuff on Chuck" photographs, wherein her most excellent and ever-photogenic dog withstands being decorated with all manner of items both edible and not. She was inspired to take the last one after seeing  these cutie Collies(?) and "Oh this is really going too far" on Cute Overload.

Until next time, may all pets be happy, healthy and - of course - cute.

Pets and Family Contributing Editor Laurie White blogs at LaurieWrites, and pathetically begs you to put links to fantastic pets below.

My parents leave town, my dog has a seizure. And also it's a weekend where I have a load of work to do, and errands to run for a big old trip. This seems to be the theme of 2008 so far. It sucks.

These are things I have thought since this happened at noon yesterday, Eastern Standard Time, AFTER he began thrashing around in the terrifying way that this BASTARD DISEASE causes him to do, and I flew to the kitchen, found the valium syringes, and gave him the injection with the CAP still on the syringe. You know where this injection goes, right?  Let's just say you could consider it a mini-colonic. Or as a man at the vet said to Punkin, not to me, "What's she trying to do to you?"

THANKS, thanks invasive stranger man. Like he's not already pissed off enough and like I'm not already cringing with guilt as he squats endlessly around the yard because now I've probably wrecked his intestinal tract, even though he passed the stupid cap.

Anyway, the thoughts:

• I am a crappy dog person with no business having an animal in my charge.
• THIS IS NOT FAIR. LIFE IS NOT FAIR. LIFE IS HORRIBLE.
• My dog hates me and loves my parents and therefore goes into neurologically-altering grief when they leave, therefore triggering the seizures.
• This in SPITE OF the fact that I spend countless hours throwing the ball, the "doughnut" made of tennis-ball material, the jack, etc. etc. And also maintaining a regular schedule of food and medicine, seriously.
• This in spite of the fact that I (MEMEME!) brought him home from that Ohio kitchen, and didn't leave him there for some BAD PERSON to pick him up and deprive him of this life of luxury. Hello!
• Why am I not at the beach instead? If I were always at the beach where I belong, and THEY were here using their magic seizure-prevention superpowers, this would not be happening.
• My dog does not hate me. God hates me. The universe hates me.
• We're stopping at CheeburgerCheeburger on the way back from picking up back-up valium syringes at the vet. (um, one for him, one for me?) We're stopping there because I deserve a cheeseburger and a milkshake for my troubles, dammit. And beyond "deserve?" Want.
• I wouldn't take his valium, no matter how much of an emotional wreck in need of relaxation this experience makes me. This is proof of how much I love my dog. I wouldn't even THINK of becoming an addict and stealing his valium, because he might NEED IT.
• I'm so well-adjusted.
• Yes, the universe hates me, and is making me pay for every vile, unpleasant, rude and unfriendly (let's not even get into UNCHRISTIAN) thing I've ever done.
• Clearly this is all about me.
• Also I'm stupid, because God and the universe have better things to do. Like define "superdelegate" and be in the room supporting the enthusiastically-caucusing people of Wyoming.

I was in no way promising rationality or maturity in those thoughts, by the way.

This is me, the last time this happened in early February, when I was once again not at the beach but spent four days handling the aftermath of a (thank you, inattentive God and universe) much-worse episode that I don't think I could have handled again, for real. I share it because if I took a picture of myself right now (up inexplicably early for springing forward day - thanks, adrenaline.) it would be exponentially more frightening and even I have some shred of pride left.

I took this on Saturday night, three days after it happened. It's amazing what happens when you really don't go far from the couch for a few days. Frightening. I call it "Slovenly - a self-portrait."

Pretty, right?!? Wrong, but true, for good or for ill.

Altogether I think I handled this one better. I'd read a ton last time on message boards and veterinary websites (three days recovery time, remember.) about how your reaction to these - in people or animals - can have an impact on recovery time. So instead of trying to pry his mouth open in denial that his jaw is locked or going "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH PLEASE STOP," I was as quiet as I could be, ran up to get the valium, shot it, and then just sat next to him and petted him and kept him from bumping into stuff until he stopped. And if I had to say what kind of impact it had, I'd have to say I have no idea. It was a little better for my blood pressure, anyway, which I guess has its benefits.

I'm just tired of them. I'm tired of them for him and tired of them for me. Yes, me. Sorry. This didn't happen for years, and he has such a lovely little life, otherwise. Just...no fair.

McCain's Menagerie & Kittens for Clinton and Obama: Pet Power in Election 2008

Crossposted from BlogHer.

Super Tuesday has come and gone and the presidential candidates have moved into a race for delegates in the states that have yet to vote. Lots of humans have weighed in about who they think will be the best person to lead our country, but one question remains: who gets the animal vote?

Much has already been made of the Obamas' plan to get their daughters a dog when they make it to the White House, but cats are dominating the Obama pet blogosphere lately. First of all, and I'm sure anyone familiar with the LOLCats craze will agree, it had to happen:  Yes We Can Has (Cheezburgers.) This one's for Dana in Wisconsin:

(Via Boinkology)

Cats For Obama is on the stump as well (and in a similar vein, don't miss I Can Has Nomination or Lolbama.) Also check out Dogs for Obama on Flickr, where Honey's for Hillary, while Chili hearts Huckabee.

Gina Spadafori got serious at Pet Connection, writing about "The Politics of Dogs and the Dogs of Politics":

Nope, Westminster is over, and while our buddy David Frei and Uno the Westminster-winning beagle make the rounds of the morning talk shows, I’m thinking of that other beauty pageant, the presidential primary races. My thought for the morning: What do the pet-food recall and Barak Obama have in common? Give up? The Internet.... The fact that we’re people, not demographics, is why some of us can enjoy the Westminster Kennel Club dog show and still rescue and foster pets. Because life is not as black-and-white as some believe — it’s about shades of gray. Or maybe, about a man with a Kansan mom, a Kenyan dad who grew up in Indonesia and Hawaii and has the middle name that any consultant would have sworn was as deadly as last spring’s pet food. As they rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic embarassment of the Clinton campaign, somebody ought to be paying attention. We’re not “demographics”; we’re people.  Miss that point? Well, here’s your hat, there’s the door. The “good ol’ days” are over, and thank heavens for that. The poodles aren’t winning any more at Westminster.  As Uno the everyman beagle would say, “Ahhhhhhh-rooooooooooooo.”

Commenter Emily was less than enthused with the encroachment of politics on one of her favorite pet sites:

I for one vote for being actually non-partisan rather than requiring Hillary supporters to sit through this kind of stuff which even Obama supporter Dogged Blog described as “She had a nice gloss of non-partisanship all over it, but yo, Gina, I’m so onto you. She’s an Obama fangirl, just like me.” That was how I read it too, but with less joy that one of my fav non-political blogs is now starting to join in the Obama fangrrl squee parade.

Christie Keith wrote in support of the Pet Connection post and shared her own beliefs about how politics and animal welfare intersect.

I believe mandatory spay/neuter harms animals and the people who love them. I believe it's designed to impede pet ownership in furtherance of an anti-pet agenda, not to reduce the number of animals killed in shelters. That's why I fight it. I believe that the way to change things is through free expression, speech, persuasion, and education, not legislation. I believe that the only way to shut down puppy mills is to dry up the market, because there's no just way to legislate them out of business without trampling on people's freedoms, and in the end, harming the human/animal bond. But I believe that as a liberal, and as a dog lover, and as the opponent of the mass commercial production of puppies, and someone who is against the sale of puppies and kittens in pet stores. And I don't find any of those things a contradiction.

The Baltimore Sun Mutts blog kept tabs on the current candidates' pets.

The undisputed winner in the pets-at-home category is John McCain, who has 22 pets; the loser is Barack Obama, who has none, but who -- it should be pointed out -- has promised his children that, win or lose, once the campaign is over, they will get one. So what he lacks in pets, he makes up for in being responsible enough to know that amid a run for the country's highest office is not a good time to bring a pet into one's young family. His opponent in the Democratic race, Hillary Clinton, is down to one dog now, a Labrador named Seamus. Of the Clintons' White House pets, Buddy passed on, and Socks was given to White House Secretary Betty Currie when the Clintons left office. While some at the time criticized Hillary Clinton for "dumping" Socks, that act, like Obama not having a dog, might also have been the more responsible choice, especially considering both she and Bill are allergic to cats.

Caitlin Flanagan wrote an essay called "No Girlfriend of Mine" in the Atlantic Monthly last July detailing her displeasure with Clinton, including her treatment of Socks.

In the annals of human evil, off-loading a pet is nowhere near the top of the list. But neither is it dead last, and it is especially galling when said pet had been deployed for years as an all-purpose character reference. All presidential pets become famous, but the national affection for Socks during his time in the White House was unexpected and politically miraculous. He did the impossible: He humanized the Clintons. Socks stood for Chelsea (whose cloistering lent her allure) and for something Hillary desperately wanted us to understand about herself: that no matter how powerful or successful she becomes, first and foremost, she’s a mom; that no matter how incomprehensible her marriage may appear to outsiders, at its deep center is the only imperishable bond a man and a woman can share—a child. Conveying these two simple facts during the long and punishing 1992 campaign had eluded Hillary, and by the time the family was crating up its belongings to move to the White House, even those of us who had helped punch their ticket thought they were odd ducks... Hillary’s insistence that we follow her example in pet ownership, when she should really be on Cat Fancy’s Most Wanted list, makes her a tiresome bore. But exploiting the emotions of good-natured people (including “many of the retired servicemen and women who live at the U.S. Soldiers’ and Airmen’s Home in Washington, D.C.,” whose bravery and patriotism she honored by having them send out kitty-cat “greetings” to Socks’s correspondents)—well, that’s just another example of her three-decade-long drift from the girl she once was to the woman that circumstance and ambition have made her.

In the Pink Texas disagreed:

What will female voters think of this, as Hillary tries to convince them that she’s human? I’ll tell you what this female voter thinks. Me. Ow. At least she didn’t strap Socks to the roof of her car on a family vacation. “In the annals of human evil, off-loading a pet is nowhere near the top of the list,” writes Caitlin Flanagan in the current issue of The Atlantic. “But neither is it dead last, and it is especially galling when said pet has been deployed for years as an all-purpose character reference.” Oh, lighten up, Flanagan.

Sarah Baxter wrote another comparative piece in the London Sunday Times about the candidates' pets.

A dog is an essential tool of government. There is nothing like a furry friend to feature in a distracting publicity photo during a domestic or international crisis and to provide private consolation when times are hard. President Bush once said about Iraq: “I will not withdraw even if Laura and Barney [his scottie] are the only ones supporting me.” With McCain vowing to keep American troops in Iraq for 100 years if necessary, it is perhaps as well that he has a number of pets. Socks the cat was a star of the Clinton years, but should Hillary’s fortunes revive she is unlike to take back the elderly family pet that she dumped on her husband’s White House secretary when his presidency ended. There is still Seamus, a chocolate labrador who replaced Buddy, the second dog owned by the Clintons to be run over. Mike Huckabee has three dogs, Jet, a black labrador, Toby, a King Charles cavalier spaniel, and Sonic, a shih tzu, but his son, David, was accused with a friend of torturing and hanging a dog at a Boy Scout camp in 1998. Animal rights groups in Arkansas, where his father was governor, were outraged and the 17-year-old was dismissed as camp counsellor.

FourDogMom made her own tally:

It's not a good sign that Obama doesn't have any pets. McCain, on the other hand leads the group with 22. I would expect nothing less than pound rescues from Kucinich, the candidate I am most closely aligned with politically.

Hallie Sue's lab speaks up at Go Dog Go while she's at work:

Given the above information, it is really a shock that the candidates are not talking more about dogs and our concerns. It seems like labs are really an over represented breed with this group, so labs everywhere should unite and make their voices heard by their humans. As I like to say, “Go Dog Go.”

The Humane Society Legislative Fund is another source for the intersection of pets and politics. The Humane Index 2006 rated Sen. Clinton over 100 percent in animal welfare, and whereas Obama scored lower he has gotten other good marks from the organization as well.

After the Cups linked to the Fund For Animals ranking, where again Clinton came out ahead, in spite of continued scuttle over the transfer of former first cat Socks to Bill Clinton's secretary Betty Currie and the demise of Buddy the lab

I'm a total nerd for politics, but what with the US elections and everything I thought maybe other people might be interested too. This site ranks both Senators and Representatives by their voting records on various issues, including animal rights according to the agendas of the Humane Society and the Fund for Animals. I realize that neither of these groups stand up the standards that most of us have, but they still serve as some sort of baseline of what we can expect from members in regards to their voting records on animal rights... It looks like Hillary has a better voting record for animal rights than Obama or McCain based on this data at least. She voted line line with the Humane Society agenda 100% of the time, Obama 60% of the time, and McCain 40% of the time. (if anyone is curious Kucinich was of course at 100%) You can obviously look up your own members as well if you feel like writing people angry letters.

PawsConnect held a less formal but spirited competition late in 2007 to determine the pets' favorite candidate. Lizzy from Catpaign won the grand prize, and felt that Clinton came out ahead.

I'm Lizzy and American politics has gone to the dogs. I'm fed up with the good ol' boys and it's no stretch to see who's the right candidate. Look at these hound dogs: Mutt Romney, Bark Obama, Joe Bite 'Em. . .It's time we put a little feline power in the white house. After all, what would you prefer? A smelly old lazy dog or a nine-lifer that knows her mind? Hillary's the cat's meow. She puts the purrr in Prrresident. It's time to let sleeping dogs lie. Cats of America Awake! Hillary Kitten in '08!

Pet Owners Who Love Too Much? Nah.

Crossposted from BlogHer.

I was standing in line at the bookstore when I spied this months Washingtonian magazine. A sweet, hopefully un-airbrushed golden retriever puppy carrying a stick looked like it could run right off the cover and into my waiting arms, which would have really broken up the monotony of another dull DC winter day, let me tell you. The cover announced that "The Ultimate Guide to Pets" lay in the pages therein, so what kind of pets editor would I be if I didn't pick up a copy? The research, friends, it never ends.

After getting a little sidetracked by the "Pick Washington's Cutest Dog and Cat" contest, I was ultimately sucked into a piece by staff writer Cindy Rich, called "Bailey and Me: Do I Love Him Too Much?"

Bailey is Rich's dog, a three-year-old mix she and her husband adopted from a shelter as a puppy. It's safe to say that in the past few years, they've bonded. She says she talks to him, calls him her "son" and gives him kisses when she leaves the house. When she gets home, she asks about his day. She and her husband think and talk about him constantly when they're on vacation.

They are so not alone. The other pet lovers she quotes in her article call their pets when they're away (at the "bone booth", oh my word), spend large sums on medical bills for pets in trouble, and are loath to move them out of their spot on the bed. One Maryland man even had a "Bark Mitzvah" for his dog's 13th birthday.

I do it too - or something much like it. My dog turned 13 on January 10th, and he had his annual pizza party. He doesn't eat pizza (sensitive stomach, of course, needy little thing that he is) but he does get a special treat or two from the gourmet dog bakery. This year it was a peanut butter "cupcake" that he tore to shreds on his special treat carpet, which is only so-called because he just won't eat them anywhere else, I swear. He also gets a couple of new toys - this year the Air Kong football was a huge hit - and special use of the family "happy birthday" plate.

Okay, this is sounding a little weird. But it's NOT. Really, no matter what my friends say. Even PETA has gotten into the dog (or cat or ferret or bird - who cares?) party act too, with no less than President Ingrid Newkirk authoring a book called "Let's Have a Dog Party" and setting up space on the organization's website for creating invitations.

And I thought I was the only one reading "Go Dog Go" on a regular basis.

A dog party! A big dog party! Big dogs, little dogs, red dogs, blue dogs, yellow dogs, green dogs, black dogs, and white dogs are all at a dog party! What a dog party!

I don't know about "too much", but we just really love our dog. The pizza party is a way to mark another year that he's been with our family, a group he is very much a part of even if he doesn't speak our language or share our species. I raised him from a puppy, and since returning to the East Coast, my parents have taken over the bulk of his care and feeding. Some might say their interest is a little extreme, hey, some days I say it, because they are truly bananas about this little dog. It's been unhelpfully suggested (not by them, thankfully) that it's all because I haven't provided a grandchild as a repository for their love and affection, selfish adult child that I am.

I disagree. I think it's just because he's a good dog, and an uncomplicated, unconditional source of happiness. It's that simple. It's not like he's getting unnecessary material things, or anything too expensive, because trust me, he wears Target clearance clothes just like Mom (um, Me.) His shirt just says "Got Biscuits?" whereas mine, thankfully, does not. He won't be receiving diamonds from Gothic Dog, or even a Chatterbowl, on which I could record a message to "soothe" him, which just sounds redundant to me because food is his primary soothing agent and my chatter would only serve to distract him from the task at hand. He also gets great medical care (love Dr. Hoffman. LOVE HER.) and yes, I do consider what channel is on the television before I leave the house because The Golf Channel? Snoo-zer.

He also receives a home-cooked meal (turkey and rice) daily because of the aforementioned sensitive stomach. He has free run of the house, and no couches or beds are off limits to him. And all of this is likely tied to the fact that the thought of him dying - an eventual reality, to be sure - preemptively breaks my heart. I feel bonded to him in such a way that I know he is essential to my life. Sorry, but back off, Rainbow Bridge. I totally hate you, Rainbow Bridge, as lovely a concept as you may be.

Again, how much love is too much?

Rich's professional sources in the article say they don't see anything wrong with treating pets as treasured and important family members, whether it's at a bark mitzvah, holding running conversations with them, or picking their names from a baby book (True story. Vote for her here.) Pet expert Warren Eckstein meditates with his pets and leaves them answering machine messages, and he makes a nice living at this "Dr. Phil of Dogs" gig. I've heard him on the radio. He's got good sense, and useful answers. He just happens to meditate with his dogs. Rich quotes him as saying, "This question 'Are we obsessed with our pets?' is for people who just don't get it."

Many bloggers get it just fine, and they're happy to share their stories and photos.

Slothrocket says she does spoil her greyhounds, and this photo essay shows how. (Sweet story short: it's a good thing. Her blog has me wanting to adopt a greyhound myself, but a yard is necessary first.)

Miss Erica at I Like Pasta says dog Sunshine makes her truly happy.

My pet is my baby :) I never feel alone. After coming back from a vacation, and not being able to pick up Sunshine till the next day ... I'm like "I miss her" :( I really cannot understand what I did before I got her. She is a JOY to have ... whether I'm happy or sad, she always just loves being there around me...

Sunshine has made life easier for me. Even though I thought I was going thru hell with her when she was a puppy, she grew up & let me know that life can be better than just being by yourself. She don't care if my face is breaking out with my pimples, or that I lost/gained weight, or that I'm mad at somebody, or that I'm tired ... she just wants to be there for me REGARDLESS. She has taught me *unconditional love* in a new way, beyond what family and friends have showed me. And with her, I know I have become a better person :)

KayC at Thoughts From the Quiet Storm "belongs to a shiba inu." Check the link for another photo post following a recent trip to the pet bakery.

He knows he is NOT allowed to take things off the table so I assumed he liked the treat made of honey and peanut butter and I asked him why was he staring at the table. (Yes, I talk to my dog in complete sentences. It freaks some people out. Especially when he responds like he understands me.)

Alex Lieber at PetPlace says the love isn't so much the problem as are the behavioral expectations or lack thereof, and the unintended results. Here's a response to a question from a woman who didn't feel like going out, and wanted to stay home with her cat instead.

Our friends say you love that cat too much. Could they be right? In other words, is it possible that you love your pet too much?

The answer: It is possible to form unhealthy attachments to animals, but the attachment must become pretty extreme. In the brief example cited above, the answer is probably no. A lot of people would rather forego a night in a smoky, noisy bar for a quiet evening home with kitty, who would certainly enjoy the company.

But if the relationship with your pet excludes meaningful relationships with human beings, then there may be a problem. "People can have unhealthy relationships when they lose objectivity," explains counselor Marty Tousley, RN, MS, CS.

"But it depends on the individual situation."

Tousley notes that human-animal bonds are unhealthy when we expect our pets to take the place of people. While our bonds with pets are beautiful and fulfilling, they should not supplant our desire to be with people.

In an article she authored, Tousley uses the example of a woman who has gone through unsuccessful relationships with men, perhaps a failed marriage or two. "A woman may find it safer, easier and more emotionally fulfilling to focus her relationship with a pet, who is never demanding or critical, and would never leave her feeling rejected or abandoned. In effect, she would be using her pet to mask her own fears of intimacy and commitment with men," writes Tousley.

Last year's film "Year of the Dog" starred Mollie Shannon as such a woman (and in film land it's always a woman, isn't it?)

FilmSlut describes Shannon's character here:

Molly Shannon plays a pretty-plain secretary at an Office Space-type company. She’s kind and considerate and listens to everyone’s petty concerns and rants. She brings donuts. She is happy for her office mates when they get engaged, married, promoted, etc. She is unmarried and has a dog, named Pencil (great name), whom she adores and lives for. Her existence is seemingly narrow, but she seems like a real sweetheart.

MovieReviewsComedy elaborates:

What I liked about Year of the Dog is how directorwriter Mike White and star Mollie Shannon bring a sad glow and refreshing realism to the main character, Peggy. Peggy is alone but she is non lonely – she has Pencil. Peggy has a nice job, though unfortunately working with an anal-retentive bug of a foreman Robin (Josh Pais), a good friend Layla (Regina King), world Health Organization is only interested in acquiring her boyfriend to marry her, a nice house, and a brother and sister-in-law (Laura Dern) obsessed with their children. Peggy cherishes adorable “Pencil.” The dog lives for her and gives Peggy the emotional affection and attention she has not found in her personal life. Peggy accepts the fact that she may never let a date, a boyfriend, or husband.

Peggy accepts, or Peggy settles? The movie never makes it clear, but when I saw it the character struck me as a "dog/cat-lady" stereotype and that's just not how it has to be. And mostly, it's not how it is. There's love that expands you and love that fences you in. Time and time again I see the expansive kind with people and their pets. This is the kind I read about in Cindy Rich's article, in homes and communities that are more wired than ever, when people need connection and companionship. As she quoted Eckstein, "Everyone is texting, e-mailing, and iPhoning, and that personal relationship we used to have with people around us isn't there anymore...People are looking for that emotional balance in life with their pet."

Balance is the key. In my experience, some of the happiest lives and families I've known include a healthy mix of connections - healthy human contact and a dog or cat curled up on the couch, loved entirely, unavoidably too much.

Laurie White writes at LaurieWrites.