You know, we human beings are terrible chauvinists when it comes to every other species we share this planet with. Rather than see them as they are, we see them instead through the lens of ourselves: Who we are and what WE can do. Can they talk? Okay, nothing can compare with us, because we can talk, and they can’t. Our brains are bigger, so we are better. Does this creature have a more sensitive nose than we have? We can make use that talent, but we’re better than they are, because we have big brains and can talk.
You think I’m exaggerating? Less than a century ago, many scientists widely and truly believed that no other creature than us had any emotions!! Some of them even had pets, and yet somehow that’s what they thought. They had eyes yet could not see. Animals to them were just pleasant little automatons who had no emotions, because – well – only we have emotions, after all.
Today, many scientists concede that at least some animals may well have emotions -- but of course, our emotions must be better and more complex than theirs.
For heaven’s sake! Every creature on earth HAS to have emotions, because they could not survive without them. One very useful and fundamental emotion is fear; even insects can only survive by having that particular emotion. Joy is another emotion – and it’s pretty clear animals feel joy as well. We see it in our pets – or do we actually fail to notice? Apparently plenty of scientists haven't noticed.
A bit of news recently does not reflect very well on the human race. We hear that many folks who rushed to adopt animals, particularly dogs, during the height of the pandemic – for companionship! – now are taking them back to the pound or the animal rescue and turning them in, because now they again have “more human companionship again”.
Those people evidently haven’t noticed things that dogs excel at that people really don’t do nearly as well. Loyalty and empathy, for example.
Dogs, we learn, are by far our oldest domesticated animal. Nowadays an idea is gaining acceptance that perhaps the grey wolves (which all dogs are) may have actually domesticated themselves, seeing advantages to throwing in their lot with ours.
They might even have domesticated US! They seem to have most of the traits in this long relationship that echo those attributed to the concept of angels: They care about us, they watch over us, they protect us, they try to please us, and will be our partners. If we need comforting, they are ready. All dogs are therapy dogs.
We’ve had this intimate relationship with dogs for at least 20,000 years, some say. Others contend it’s more like 100,000 years – dogs seem to have been buried with signs of affection at least that long ago.
So here we are – confronted with people, today, who are turning in dogs they picked up for temporary emergency company, because these dogs are no longer….useful.
This Thanksgiving, maybe we should be giving thanks for the unique relationship we have with “man’s best friend”. “Man” in this case meaning all of Humankind, of all ages, genders, ethnic backgrounds. The right dog can bring out the best in all of us, if we let it.
In that context, I direct the following essay to the attention of anyone who has, or had considered, “turning in” dogs they’d adopted for convenience during the pandemic – not even considering or trying to understand the relationship they may have with their dog.
Jim Willis, a man in Grand Rapids, Michigan, in 2001 paid $7,000 to take out a full-page ad in his local paper to present the following essay to the people of his community:
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When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad” you'd shake your finger at me and ask “How could you?” – but then you’d relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more Perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs” you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on Your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and then you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a “dog person” – but still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.
Then the human Babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time Banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a “prisoner of Love”.
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch – because your touch was now so infrequent – and I would've Defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of Your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered “yes” and changed the subject. I had gone from being “your dog” to “just a dog”, and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your “family”, but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said “I know you will find a good home for her.” They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers". You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed “No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my Dog!”
And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all Life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked “How could you?”
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind – that this was all a bad dream...or, I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.
When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.
As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured “How could you?”
Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said “I'm so sorry.” She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself – a place of love and light, so very different from this earthly place.
And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my “How could you?” was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master – I was thinking of you.
I will think of you, and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
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So, there’s the essay. The man who wrote that two decades ago gives permission to anyone who wants to reprint it to do so, as long as they print it as he wrote it, and add that it is “copyrighted 2001 by Jim Willis”. Which I have now done.
One more thing. Even the scientists who have dogs and even have by now figured out they have emotions seem not yet to have noticed that, in all our millennia together, dogs have heard how we communicate, and have actually learned how to understand whatever language we use. The smartest of them are fluent in following our conversations!
Yes, they really do know and understand what we say. It’s not just memorizing the sound of your words, it’s understanding your thoughts. So that element of the story above is not fanciful. They may not physically be able to speak our words as you do, but they do understand them. That’s worth keeping in mind.
By all this I hope you have a bit more appreciation of the special companion you have, if you have a dog. This Thanksgiving, let’s give thanks for this unique relationship which can make us better humans.
And maybe share a little ice cream now and then.
