This morning’s search for a hummingbird feeder was unsuccessful, however the store hosts a once-a-week veterinary clinic for dogs, thus I had a happy encounter with an enthusiastic beagle. I always ask the owner if it’s alright to speak to their dog, though that sweet girl would have been hard to ignore. My right ear got a good licking.
Owning a dog ourselves would not be impossible. I believe the right one would get on well enough with our crowd of cats, but it would mean installing a long fence which would keep out some of the wild animals that visit and in winter outdoor activity would be very confined.
Five cats is a whole lot less than the thirteen we arrived here with, or the somewhat larger number I had at one time in Washington, but with diminishing finances and dwindling years, it makes no sense to add a dog to our complications.
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Which is why we take dog fixes where we can get them.
Even if it’s only a rather cross-looking pooch in a parking lot.
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Or a doggie in the window.
There are two windows in Greenwich that we always have to check out. Usually we pass by too fast for a photo but occasionally the light at the intersection causes us to stop in just the right place. This window has a selection of possibilities.
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Last Christmas Eve I got a blurry image of the white one which I suspect is the same creature we have seen on occasion in a shaggy coat.
And I think once there may have been three dogs in that window, but my eyes don’t focus fast enough to be depended on with any accuracy.
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Some dogs shout at us. That’s OK too.
No, I didn’t provoke it by getting too close. I use the telephoto.
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In a small community you can expect to see the same dogs if you keep any sort of routine. Puppies, that mature – is that the case here? I can’t be certain it’s the same dog.
Then there are the people we see walking their dogs. A woman in Greenwich had two Scotties. Then it was one and now she walks alone. Poignant.
For many years I loved to read dog stories.
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Which is how I came to know about Jon Katz’ wonderful border collie Red.
Mr Katz has written about all of his dogs, but this one I got to meet. I’d read about him and followed his story on Facebook.
Years ago, Jon and his wife Maria used to have an open house in the Fall and I always thought how nice it would be to meet them and see all the animals on their farm.
When I decided to move back east it had to be somewhere away from suburbia. I was familiar with New York, so – Upstate. Why not somewhere close enough to enable such a visit?
When I did a property search online, I found a very suitable looking house that turned out to be in the same town and after many weeks of frenzied and stressful activity, we arrived in time for what turned out to be the final open house.
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Jon was running a writing class on Saturdays at the time and when I mentioned my interest, I was invited to attend, which is actually how I came eventually to start a blog.
At the farm, I met the other animals, a flock of sheep, two donkeys and some chickens, as well as Maria’s border collie Fate and Bud, the Boston terrier they had recently taken from a rescue somewhere out west. Bud had been terribly traumatised in his early life and was still quite nervous a year later, but Red had befriended him.
In all, I think I only met Red three times and only briefly, but he touched me deeply. Animals often affect me, but he was very special. After the move, I was exhausted and fairly stressed. Red came over to me and laid a great paw on my knee, looking up at me with those deep eyes that seemed to say “Everything is alright.”
He didn’t stay long, but he did it each time I saw him and every time, I felt a strong sense of well-being and calm come over me. I am so grateful that I got to meet Red. It was one of those brief but memorable experiences you cherish.
The writing class disbanded and Red died not long after. Jon has a different philosophy when it comes to the loss of pets. He believes it is better to devote your attention and love to a new dog. After all, we have to accept that we mostly outlive our pets. He isn’t wrong. So many animals need care and I do get comfort from those that remain. What good are tears?
Yet grief for animals weighs me down in a way it does not for people. I used to think perhaps there was something wrong with me, with my priorities, but I have come to realise that the two forms of grief are simply not comparable.
Animals have always meant more to me than people because they have never disappointed or betrayed me and have never failed to return my love.
Having said that…
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Not every cat I have cared for liked me. Tinkerbelle was devoted to Grant, but barely tolerated me until the last months of her life when she agreed to let me to pet her.
Many, many years ago, at the beginning of my cat-lady days, my first feline friend Mohammed disappeared, leaving me heart-broken. On my next birthday, I was presented with a beautiful Balinese kitten, who I named Kina. I allowed him time to settle in, but he really didn’t and friends decided that he needed a companion, so at Christmas, 10 months later, I was given little Himalayan Yeti.
While she was tiny, Kina seemed to enjoy being protective, but once she was grown he all but bullied her. Kina adored my boyfriend who could not understand what I meant when I said that he was unhappy, but I had, finally, to accept that it was so. Kina did not want to live with me, which he demonstrated in any number of inconvenient and annoying ways.
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Being annoyed by cats is not something I have ever been bothered by, or I would never have had so many! But, that Kina was less than happy did trouble me. He deserved better, but he could not go to England with my boyfriend and that situation was never going to change.
So, when another friend, grieving over his lost Siamese, asked me where he could get a Himalayan or another Siamese, I asked :“What about a nice Balinese?”
Kina fell promptly and deeply in love with his new family and lived in bliss for the rest of his 21 years, for which I was very grateful.
Just as you cannot force a guy – or girl – to fall in love with you, you cannot force an animal, least of all a cat. If you love them, you allow them to go to a home that makes them happy.
Animals at least make no pretense about it, nor do they torment you with foolish mind games. It is why I have always been more comfortable with animals and why I have a huge depth of grief for them.
Human loss is something different altogether.
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Thank you, Carolyn, for the wonderfully interesting reflections on dogs, their role in our lives, and the price we pay for love of animals. I wholly understand the different grief when we lose an animal companion, and I never miss any departed human. Perhaps, because, as you wrote, they are nowhere near the bond we have with animals, and for a reason.
Joanna
For obvious reasons, I think you should have a dog. However, they would chase the squirrels, raccoons, groundhogs, and every other animal that brings you joy. So even if you had no cats, you probably could not have a dog. Sad, but true. The loyalty and devotion of dogs is second to none though, so In your shoes I would still have one.
Best wishes, Pete.
Dogs don’t last as long as cats. Indoor cats, anyway. They’re a mess. But we live with Irish Setters – the class clowns – if there isn’t a party they’ll throw one. Deep in Louisiana I watched a man pull up to a clapboard gas and food joint, park by the water hose. He opened a couple of crates in the back of his truck and three chocolate labs jumped out. A little water and few minutes later they were golden labs, After that an Irish Setter jumped out of the cab with barely muddy feet. I laughed, said I know one like that. He laughed, too, said “She’s the best damn bird dog I ever had. Knows where they’re at, but she ain’t nowhere near dumb enough to go after ’em. So I gotta have spare dogs cause the one who can find ’em won”t go after ’em ,and these three who can’t find birds or their butts but love to bring ’em back.”