What Matters Most

April 13, 2015

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It feels like forever since I’ve written anything. Since my last blog, I’ve taken in 3 different fosters. One has been labeled “kennel crazy”, the other a mange puppy, and a mother and her lone surviving pup. I will have all their stories this week but today I wanted to talk about my parents and their dedication to their dogs…

I remember our first dog. She was actually a gift from one of my sister’s boyfriends. I was in 7^th grade at the time and up until this point my dad had made it very clear that we would NEVER get a dog. The day my sister came home with the dog, my dad was at work and we all tried our best to hide her in the garage which was a great idea…until my dad got home…and then she barked. We all tried to ignore it but my dad got up, walked in the garage, came back in and said, “NO!” After some pleading from my mom and sister, my dad finally agreed. The next morning my sister and I woke up so happy that we finally had a dog. That may have been one of the longest days I ever had at school because I could not wait to play with our new family member. Little did we know that he had left her in the garage with the garage door open and went to bed hoping the dog would wander off so he could tell us that she ran away! When he woke up she hadn’t moved and that’s what began my dad’s love affair with his first dog. We had named her, Roxie. She was a black doxie/cocker spaniel who weighed maybe 25-30 pounds. It wasn’t long before Roxie became my dad’s dog.

None of us knew the first thing about taking care of a dog except that we had to feed her, give her water and take her to the vet to get fixed. This was in the late 80’s so we didn’t have the resources and access to any dog training other than our newspaper. Plus, if you know my dad he’s not trying to have anyone tell him what to do so he winged it. My dad used to be a marathon runner so as soon as she was able to he would take her on these crazy long runs and eventually she would be running in half marathons with him! He had her on this crazy feeding schedule so he could keep track on when she had to go potty which has actually helped me potty train my dogs! But other than that, the dog ran the house. She ate an apple fritter every morning; she literally ate at the dinner table with us. She would have a bowl of dog food at the table with a placemat under it and soon it became a common thing to just see her eating with us. It got to the point where the kids from school would come over just to see it. She destroyed pretty much everything in the house and I never heard my dad yell at her or get mad at her. He would always say, “She’s not a dog. She’s Roxie and whatever she messes up can be replaced.” And it was usually followed by, “You and your sister have broken all sorts of things and we still kept you.” I guess he had a point. Well, Roxie lived until she was about 12 years old and to this day that is the only time I have seen my dad cry. And he broke down and cried like I’ve never seen a man do before in my life.

These days he has Mary Jane and BJ. He never asked for them either! Mary Jane was a gift from an old girlfriend of mine and I was just not in the position to take care of a dog so my dad ended up keeping her. And BJ belonged to some friends who couldn’t take care of him anymore. Along the way he would watch my buddy’s dog, Nonamie, for extended amounts of time. I’m pretty sure all the damage these dogs have caused is probably in the ballpark of $5000-$10,000. It was like they had a new couch every other month because my mom kept having to get them reupholstered. My mom constantly gives them treats “for the last time “about 20 times a day. They have gone through countless screen doors until my dad decided to put one of the metal security doors in so they couldn’t run through that. Through all the dog scuffles, messed up drywall, ripped up trash can bags and the case of water that they decided to chew on and flood part of the house, not once did they ever try and actually correct the situation. Instead, they just kept everything out of reach from the dogs and my dad just ended up not having a trash can in the house. Yes, the dogs ran (and still run) the house and even though my parents have never really made an effort to control their dogs, there is one thing they never did. They never let them go. Roxie bit me one time in the face and the first thing my dad told me was, “Well, what did you do to make her do that?” It later came out that I kept blowing in her face until I pissed her off enough that she lunged at me. Give me a break, I was in 7^th grade and bored!

And after seeing all of this the past 20 plus years, giving up your dog isn’t an option in my eyes. Mary Jane is Queensland heeler mix, BJ is a pit/lab and Nonamie was a pit/boxer (RIP) but to my dad, breed didn’t matter. Family does. And the dogs are family. You don’t give up on family when times get rough. I understand situations come up where you might think you have to give them up but I know for a fact that my parents would live on the streets before they gave up their dogs.

I guess what I’m trying to say is. A dog is for life. They will mess things up, pee in your house and probably not like every single dog they come in contact with. But they are not disposable. I will never understand people who willingly give their dog up and then cry about it. That was a choice YOU made. This is about respecting life. This is about sticking up for your family. And most importantly, never giving up. If you can’t commit to forever, do us all a favor and don’t get a dog. You may have better luck finding someone on an online dating service. At least nobody gets euthanized if it doesn’t work out.