Prior to purchasing Savvy, I did a lot of research. I’m not naturally a research-loving person, but I am obsessed with a firm believer in personal responsibility; since we wanted a large breed dog, sifting through the shelves of dog training, canine behavior, and animal psychology books was a must, in my very logical and long-term-consequences mind.
Of course I watched Cesar Millan whisper to dogs, sat entranced by the wondrous Brit-speak of Victoria Stillwell, and generally came to the conclusion that my dog would not, *could* not, be a little fur person to me. I adore Savvy, but—as Hubby will attest—”Mommy don’t play that” game with the dog. She is always “dog” first and my beloved “Savvy” second.
As with Bandit, when dealing with Savvy I can’t define her actions by my logic. For one thing, dogs don’t experience “context” the way we do. (For instance, if Hubby allows her to jump up and lick his face, Savvy would not understand why then it would be dangerous for her to jump on an older woman with shaky hips to lick her face; or, if we were to give Savvy an old shoe as a toy, she would be hard-pressed to understand the difference between the toy shoe and my designer boots because they are, after all, both shoes—what does a dog care for fashion?)
But more informed/educated/experienced people than I *have* made a study of canine behavior and offer insight into the basic thought processes of our doggy friends, and so it is their teachings I pull from when I try to understand what my actions communicate to Savvy. In many ways, I’m learning a new language in order to translate Human to Dog. I can’t expect Savvy to learn every word of English (she can’t even understand context–god help her with our bastardized language). As her owner–the person who *chose* to pick her out and haul her home–it is always my responsibility to act as her intermediary, her translator, as she navigates the world of a species not her own, one not of her choosing. Having invited her in, I am her hostess, and I try to remember this in every circumstance.
Which is why I don’t understand animal cruelty.
If I invited a friend over, tied her out back, and simply left her there with little more than some muddy water for weeks on end. . . if I were to ignore her cries for food, her whimpers of pain as her metabolism slowly ate the flesh from her bones until she was little more than an animated skeleton. . . if I tried to explain to Mr. Police Officer that I was going to take my guest to a doctor, soon, maybe later this week. . . you see where I’m going here.
Some cruelties aren’t so easily identified, and I’d argue that many more are often deemed harmless (I should probably point out here, to hopefully save offense, that the legal definition of “cruelty” doesn’t imply malice or intent. ”Cruelty” simply means a harm was caused). Allowing a dog to eat chocolate doughnuts, for instance, in quantities that would not quickly kill, is a type of cruelty because of the damage it does to the dog’s liver. Unchecked obesity, too, causes harm to a dog’s joints and internal systems and is a sort of cruelty. Yet even these examples are easier to understand and accept for many of us, because we can *see* the negative results of such behaviors with a simple trip to the vet’s office.
So what’s the one cruelty most often overlooked by well-meaning owners and bad hosts alike? What’s the number one reason so many of these wonderful creatures are abandoned and legislated against?
dog training camp…
Very informative…