Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Black Dog

Not the Led Zeppelin tune, but the ugly and/or scary looking mutt at the pound. According to a recent AP article by Emily Zeugner that ran in Sunday's AZ Republic, animal shelters nationwide have a hard time finding homes for big black dogs (BBDs).



There aren't any good statistics on this, but the national ASPCA hears the same story over and over again: BBDs don't get adopted, and too many of them wind up euthanized. Shelter workers cite a number of logistical difficulties - they don't photograph as easily as lighter colored dogs, their expressions are harder to read - but the bottom line is that people find them scary.



Last week I had a client with two dogs, one of whom was a big black lab. She had been adopted as a puppy, survived both Parvo and Valley Fever, and now she has diabetes and cataracts. It takes a rare (too rare) type of person to keep caring for a dog with so many problems - a lesser person would have given up on this dog a long time ago, and I doubt she'd have made it out of the next shelter alive.



The question I ask myself is, if she'd been a smaller and lighter colored dog, would she face the same odds? I doubt it. We have a cultural image of big black dogs as Hellhounds, and I think we project our own worst intentions of malice and mayhem onto them. (For the record, the BBD I sat for last week is a complete sweetie.)



I propose a national service corps of BBDs as part of a larger program of behavioral therapy for all Americans. If they can help us face up to our own fears, especially the fears of our own shadows, we'll all be much happier and healthier as a people - and the dogs will get to live. Until that happens, go to the Arizona Humane Society or the nearest Maricopa County Animal Care & Control center and meet one in person. Then adopt one or two!

"Well, I'm back"

I've always found Sam Gamgee's words at the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy to be an excellent starting point for rebounding from the inevitable slips and pitfalls of my life. That plus Kilgore Trout's creed from Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s 1996 novel Timequake:


You were sick, but now you're well, and there's work to do.

So after several months of bloglessness, partly due to spending more time pet sitting than writing (and partly due to my own inertia), I am declaring myself both Back and Well.


Or something like that.