In the 1970s while my sister eagerly anticipated her issues of Tiger Beat and taped the centerfold posters of Leif Garrett and Shaun Cassidy to her walls, I was glued to episodes of Gentle Ben and obsessively reading my tattered copy of The Black Stallion. I believe I skipped over some “normal” phase of life where my crushes were of attractive, age-appropriate celebrities; instead I’ve always had a bit of hero worship for those with kind hearts, a complete devotion to those they love, and an unconditional commitment to do what is right. My admiration of dogs, then, makes perfect sense, because they possess these qualities and more by the truckload. Today is K9 Veterans Day, and at a time when everything seems to have a special day, and for as much as I embrace making every day a celebration, Marzipan Day, Learn Your Name in Morse Code Day, and Stuffed Mushroom Day just don’t hold the same significance for me as a day devoted to honoring dogs.
There are the heroic canines many of us have heard of: Sergeant Stubby was the fearless stray who performed vital roles in World War II including alerting troops to incoming gas attacks, catching German spies, locating missing soldiers in between the trenches, and boosting morale. Nemo was the German Shepherd who, in 1966, along with his handler, Airman Second Class Robert Thorneburg, survived gunshot wounds while fighting in Vietnam. A bullet hit Nemo in the muzzle, but he relentlessly charged four gunmen, giving Thorneburg, who was shot in the shoulder, enough time to call for reinforcements.
But thinking about all the canine heroes whose limitless loyalty and courage saved untold numbers in combat over the years, I know their hearts are kindred to the dogs so many of us have known, loved, and owe much to. I’ve lost track of the times I’ve said, “We don’t deserve dogs,” but I do know my repetition has not diminished this truth. When I learned that my dear first Dutch Shepherd Remo, a stoic like none other I’ve known, was suffering from osteosarcoma that had already begun eating away at his spine, my heart was broken. I remember sitting on the floor with him and sobbing at the coming loss of my best friend and at the pain he’d already endured. For as much as he hurt, he still crawled closer so that he could rest his head in my lap. Nothing better illustrates the absolute selfless love our dogs offer us; Remo’s own suffering came second to the comfort he wanted to provide.
Ask anyone who has had a strong relationship with a dog and they will corner you with story after story of their companion sensing their human’s bad day, illness, or even threats to their safety. That kind of unconditional care is largely unheard of in the world of human relationships and is something to be protected and celebrated daily. Every morning when Best dances circles around me because he cannot contain his excitement over the same breakfast he ate only 24 hours earlier, I am reminded of the joy that can be found in waking and having a full food bowl. When I have a lot on my mind and am impatient with Best’s need to repeatedly offer me his slimy toy to throw, I am humbled by the speed with which he forgives me.
I’ve heard people say that they wish their dogs could talk. Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that they wish they and their dogs spoke the same language? Because truly, dogs communicate with us all the time. If we pay attention. And I don’t mean that in some zany Dr. Doolittle sense, either. The height at which they hold their tails, the angle at which they stand, the expression in their eyes, and much, much more tell us what we need to know. Forcing our own wishes on dogs—“I like hugging my dog, so I’m going to squeeze him reeeally tight even though he’s yawning and licking his lips!” “I’m going to reach down and pet that dog because I like petting dogs, even though nothing in his body language tells me he wants my attention!”—often leads them to respond in ways we call aggressive, mean, or unpredictable, but all along the dog was trying to tell us something we chose not to hear.
I believe if dogs could speak our language and asked for what they deserve, it would result in a contract that looks like this:
- We’re trying to learn what you expect from us; please communicate this with us patiently and consistently.
- We’re adorable and cuddly and downright irresistible as puppies, but our bladders are small, our attention span is short, our teeth hurt, and we have loads of energy. When you are impatient with us or expect us not to experience this biological reality, you are setting us up to fail.
- We are not a substitute for a spouse/partner. We are not your baby. We are not practice for when you have a “real” baby. We are unique individuals of another species who you have chosen to bring into your life. Respect that choice and provide us with what we need. Otherwise, please get a stuffed animal.
- On that note, we are not stuffed animals. We will shed. We will be smelly sometimes. We will do things that are confusing to you. At the risk of sounding harsh—the “mistakes” we make almost always point to a breakdown in leadership from you.
- If you plan to keep me in a crate for most of my life or relegated to a pen outside, you don’t really want a dog. We are pack animals who deeply desire a connection. If you plan to bring me home so that you’ll have the opportunity to post lots of cute pictures of me and then grow tired of vet bills, regular exercise, mental stimulation, cost of feeding me nutritious meals, and being the pack leader I need, then volunteer at a humane society instead.
- I am not a fur-covered representation of your masculinity. If you feel you need to “toughen me up” by roughhousing or picking at me so that I’ll be aggressive to those you pass while walking me down the street in a heavy chain collar, spend your money on a gym membership instead.
- I am perfect just as I am. I don’t need someone taking scissors to my ears or nail clippers to my tail when I’m newborn and helpless to do anything but cry out when you remove parts of me that you think keep me from looking “right.” And if you think it doesn’t hurt, I challenge you to be present while this is happening.
- When my life is at its end, please don’t send me away to be euthanized in a strange place with people I don’t know. I know you must make the hardest decisions on my behalf sometimes, and my trust is in you to make the best ones for me. But please don’t say you “can’t” watch the life leave my eyes because it is “too difficult.” Be with me until the very end. I need the comfort of your touch, scent, and love to usher me from this life to the next.
Being a person who deserves the lifelong, undeserved adoration of a dog is one of the very best and the very hardest things. If we let them, they will teach us more about heroism and pure hearts than perhaps anything else on earth. The gift of being the custodian of fur-covered angels is one we must never stop trying to deserve, even as they are loving us in all our shortcomings, failures, and flaws. Not every dog has served their country as K9 veterans, but every dog in history has lived for something greater than themselves.
PartWolf 