Beauty

[just bee]

@DelaRose

Of Dogs and Men

Charles Krauthammer

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

The way I see it, dogs had this big meeting, oh, maybe 20,000 years ago. A huge meeting — an international convention with delegates from everywhere. And that's when they decided that humans were the up-and-coming species and dogs were going to throw their lot in with them. The decision was obviously not unanimous. The wolves and dingoes walked out in protest.

Cats had an even more negative reaction. When they heard the news, they called their own meeting — in Paris, of course — to denounce canine subservience to the human hyperpower. (Their manifesto — La Condition Feline — can still be found in provincial bookstores.)

Cats, it must be said, have not done badly. Using guile and seduction, they managed to get humans to feed them, thus preserving their superciliousness without going hungry. A neat trick. Dogs, being guileless, signed and delivered. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I must admit that I've been slow to warm to dogs. I grew up in a non-pet-friendly home. Dogs do not figure prominently in Jewish-immigrant households. My father was not very high on pets. He wasn't hostile. He just saw them as superfluous, an encumbrance. When the Cossacks are chasing you around Europe, you need to travel light. (This, by the way, is why Europe produced far more Jewish violinists than pianists. Try packing a piano.)

My parents did allow a hint of zoological indulgence. I had a pet turtle. My brother had a parakeet. Both came to unfortunate ends. My turtle fell behind a radiator and was not discovered until too late. And the parakeet, God bless him, flew out a window once, never to be seen again. After such displays of stewardship, we dared not ask for a dog.

My introduction to the wonder of dogs came from my wife Robyn. She's Australian. And Australia, as lovingly recounted in Bill Bryson's In a Sunburned Country, has the craziest, wildest, deadliest, meanest animals on the planet. In a place where every spider and squid can take you down faster than a sucker-punched boxer, you cherish niceness in the animal kingdom. And they don't come nicer than dogs.

Robyn started us off slowly. She got us a border collie, Hugo, when our son was about 6. She knew that would appeal to me because the border collie is the smartest species on the planet. Hugo could 1) play outfield in our backyard baseball games, 2) do flawless front-door sentry duty, and 3) play psychic weatherman, announcing with a wail every coming thunderstorm.

When our son Daniel turned 10, he wanted a dog of his own. I was against it, using arguments borrowed from seminars on nuclear nonproliferation. It was hopeless. One giant "Please, Dad," and I caved completely. Robyn went out to Winchester, Va., found a litter of black Labs and brought home Chester.

Chester is what psychiatrists mean when they talk about unconditional love. Unbridled is more like it. Come into our house, and he was so happy to see you, he would knock you over. (Deliverymen learned to leave things at the front door.)

In some respects — Ph.D. potential, for example — I don't make any great claims for Chester. When I would arrive home, I fully expected to find Hugo reading the newspaper. Not Chester. Chester would try to make his way through a narrow sliding door, find himself stuck halfway and then look at me with total and quite genuine puzzlement. I don't think he ever got to understand that the rear part of him was actually attached to the front.

But it was Chester, who dispensed affection as unreflectively as he breathed, who got me thinking about this long-ago pact between humans and dogs. Cat lovers and the pet averse will just roll their eyes at such dogophilia. I can't help it. Chester was always at your foot or your hand, waiting to be petted and stroked, played with and talked to. His beautiful blocky head, his wonderful overgrown puppy's body, his baritone bark filled every corner of house and heart.

Then last month, at the tender age of 8, he died quite suddenly. The long, slobbering, slothful decline we had been looking forward to was not to be. When told the news, a young friend who was a regular victim of Chester's lunging love-bombs said mournfully, "He was the sweetest creature I ever saw. He's the only dog I ever saw kiss a cat."

Some will protest that in a world with so much human suffering, it is something between eccentric and obscene to mourn a dog. I think not. After all, it is perfectly normal, indeed, deeply human to be moved when nature presents us with a vision of great beauty. Should we not be moved when it produces a vision — a creature — of the purest sweetness?

[DelaRose]

@just bee

Thank you sooo much for the story.  It hits so close to home.  My heart is breaking.  I lost my golden to cancer last December at the age of 11.  I couldn't believe when the vet told me that she had cancer because I had taken such good care of this dog only feeding her the best foods, no table scraps, regular exercise, up-to-date on shots, and I had her groomed every 8 weeks.

Now I have only had 2 dogs in my life.  A shepherd/collie/lab mix that I got from the pound when she was a puppy and the golden that I got from a breeder.   Both dogs were incredible pets and it is funny because when you experience losing one you think that you'll be OK when it's time for your next to go.  Well that wasn't my case and in fact losing the golden brought back all the memories of losing my first dog.

I knew that my kids would want to give me another dog so I told my husband to tell them I did not want a new dog because I needed time.  Well guess what I got for Christmas 2 weeks later...........a border collie/lab mix (coincidence that you posted your story?) puppy.  This dog is so sweet and lovable and I do love her; but she is still not like my 1st and 2nd dog and I'm having a problem comparing her all the time to the other 2.  She is not a walking kind of dog and is one of those houdini dogs that can get out of anything.  She's afraid of everybody and everything (she barks at the wind).  It's just gonna take more time for me.

[just bee]

---

@DelaRose wrote:

@just bee

Thank you sooo much for the story.  It hits so close to home.  My heart is breaking.  I lost my golden to cancer last December at the age of 11.  I couldn't believe when the vet told me that she had cancer because I had taken such good care of this dog only feeding her the best foods, no table scraps, regular exercise, up-to-date on shots, and I had her groomed every 8 weeks.

Now I have only had 2 dogs in my life.  A shepherd/collie/lab mix that I got from the pound when she was a puppy and the golden that I got from a breeder.   Both dogs were incredible pets and it is funny because when you experience losing one you think that you'll be OK when it's time for your next to go.  Well that wasn't my case and in fact losing the golden brought back all the memories of losing my first dog.

I knew that my kids would want to give me another dog so I told my husband to tell them I did not want a new dog because I needed time.  Well guess what I got for Christmas 2 weeks later...........a border collie/lab mix (coincidence that you posted your story?) puppy.  This dog is so sweet and lovable and I do love her; but she is still not like my 1st and 2nd dog and I'm having a problem comparing her all the time to the other 2.  She is not a walking kind of dog and is one of those houdini dogs that can get out of anything.  She's afraid of everybody and everything (she barks at the wind).  It's just gonna take more time for me.

---

@DelaRose

We moved out here with my Boxer and she was misdiagnosed with a pituitary tumor.  Actually, what she had was pancreatic cancer.

It's difficult to lose a pet and it doesn't matter how many we lose: It never gets easier.  And for some reason we feel so guilty.  As if we could have done something to prevent it.

Then we adopted a pair of Boxermatians.  Brother and sister, parents were Boxer and Dalmatian.  Or so we were told.  The most expensive dogs I've ever owned.  They were a bargain at $70 for the pair, but then they started racking up the bills.  Destructive they were.  Then there was doggie daycare.  And then the health issues as they aged.  The male was diagnosed with diabetes and lost his vision soon after that.  I started him on insulin (another reason I started thinking about nursing school).  Then we had his lenses replaced so he could see again.  No, really.

His sister was diagnosed with bladder cancer.  She routinely blew out her knees and required repair.

After they were both gone I promised Better-half that I would resist the urge to run out and get a dog.  Or two.  I kept my promise for two years and it was agony.  Especially because I was doing clinicals at a horrible nursing home and I really needed a dog to get me through it.  I'm not particularly religious but I prayed to God every day on my commute home: Please, God.  I really need a dog.

Then, ready to go to work, I opened the garage door one morning and there was a dog.  I immediately invited him in for breakfast.

We tried to find his owners but just couldn't.  We decided he was an Australian Kelpie because he looked and acted like one.  He was definitely a herder and he thought I was a sheep.  For some reason he would grab my arms with his teeth and try to herd me.  I had a state skills exam scheduled and I was mortified.  I was going to show up with what looked like track marks on my arms.

In a nutshell, we got through this behavior and he has turned out to be the most wonderful dog.  So smart.  Such common sense.  An angel.

But he is at least eight years old now and I'm so scared.  Part of me is thinking he'll be my last.  I'm terrified of something happening to me and BH and then what happens to the dog who is left behind?  I worry.  A lot.

But living without a dog is agony.

We need @geezerette  to tell you about her Rottie.  She had a few behaviors that were a major concern but time has made a difference.

Your dog needs time and careful socialization.  We call our boy the Doggie Ambassador.  We're out often and meet people who have just adopted abused and/or painfully shy dogs and they don't want to mix and mingle.  When we explain that our dog is safe, their dogs will often move towards him, curious.  He just stands there and lets them explore him.

An owner will often say that their dog has never allowed itself to get that close and it seemed okay with it.

And we say, "Of course!  He is the Doggie Ambassador."

You need to find a doggie ambassador.

[DelaRose]

---

@just bee wrote:

---

@DelaRose wrote:

@just bee

Thank you sooo much for the story.  It hits so close to home.  My heart is breaking.  I lost my golden to cancer last December at the age of 11.  I couldn't believe when the vet told me that she had cancer because I had taken such good care of this dog only feeding her the best foods, no table scraps, regular exercise, up-to-date on shots, and I had her groomed every 8 weeks.

Now I have only had 2 dogs in my life.  A shepherd/collie/lab mix that I got from the pound when she was a puppy and the golden that I got from a breeder.   Both dogs were incredible pets and it is funny because when you experience losing one you think that you'll be OK when it's time for your next to go.  Well that wasn't my case and in fact losing the golden brought back all the memories of losing my first dog.

I knew that my kids would want to give me another dog so I told my husband to tell them I did not want a new dog because I needed time.  Well guess what I got for Christmas 2 weeks later...........a border collie/lab mix (coincidence that you posted your story?) puppy.  This dog is so sweet and lovable and I do love her; but she is still not like my 1st and 2nd dog and I'm having a problem comparing her all the time to the other 2.  She is not a walking kind of dog and is one of those houdini dogs that can get out of anything.  She's afraid of everybody and everything (she barks at the wind).  It's just gonna take more time for me.

---

@DelaRose

We moved out here with my Boxer and she was misdiagnosed with a pituitary tumor.  Actually, what she had was pancreatic cancer.

It's difficult to lose a pet and it doesn't matter how many we lose: It never gets easier.  And for some reason we feel so guilty.  As if we could have done something to prevent it.

Then we adopted a pair of Boxermatians.  Brother and sister, parents were Boxer and Dalmatian.  Or so we were told.  The most expensive dogs I've ever owned.  They were a bargain at $70 for the pair, but then they started racking up the bills.  Destructive they were.  Then there was doggie daycare.  And then the health issues as they aged.  The male was diagnosed with diabetes and lost his vision soon after that.  I started him on insulin (another reason I started thinking about nursing school).  Then we had his lenses replaced so he could see again.  No, really.

His sister was diagnosed with bladder cancer.  She routinely blew out her knees and required repair.

After they were both gone I promised Better-half that I would resist the urge to run out and get a dog.  Or two.  I kept my promise for two years and it was agony.  Especially because I was doing clinicals at a horrible nursing home and I really needed a dog to get me through it.  I'm not particularly religious but I prayed to God every day on my commute home: Please, God.  I really need a dog.

Then, ready to go to work, I opened the garage door one morning and there was a dog.  I immediately invited him in for breakfast.

We tried to find his owners but just couldn't.  We decided he was an Australian Kelpie because he looked and acted like one.  He was definitely a herder and he thought I was a sheep.  For some reason he would grab my arms with his teeth and try to herd me.  I had a state skills exam scheduled and I was mortified.  I was going to show up with what looked like track marks on my arms.

In a nutshell, we got through this behavior and he has turned out to be the most wonderful dog.  So smart.  Such common sense.  An angel.

But he is at least eight years old now and I'm so scared.  Part of me is thinking he'll be my last.  I'm terrified of something happening to me and BH and then what happens to the dog who is left behind?  I worry.  A lot.

But living without a dog is agony.

We need @geezerette  to tell you about her Rottie.  She had a few behaviors that were a major concern but time has made a difference.

Your dog needs time and careful socialization.  We call our boy the Doggie Ambassador.  We're out often and meet people who have just adopted abused and/or painfully shy dogs and they don't want to mix and mingle.  When we explain that our dog is safe, their dogs will often move towards him, curious.  He just stands there and lets them explore him.

An owner will often say that their dog has never allowed itself to get that close and it seemed okay with it.

And we say, "Of course!  He is the Doggie Ambassador."

You need to find a doggie ambassador.

---

@just bee

Either that or a good therapist.

[just bee]

Speaking of therapists, I may need one myself!

THIS BITES.

There's a thread about BB creams on the forum so I thought I'd put forth my two cents.  My post prompted me to check out Dermstore where I'd found the last remaining Lumene CC creams on the planet.  Well, today they're on sale.

It makes no sense to order them because I already have two unused tubes.  I'll pass.  Don't need to stock a product that will expire before I can use it.  Besides, I'd have to order something else to get free shipping.  Not gonna do it.

So I wander over to Ulta's site.  I'd just ordered Lumene products and was thrilled that they were available in the U.S.  Well, suddenly Ulta has only one page of products instead of two.  The Glow Reveal cream is no longer on the site.  Better not fall in love with that one.

In fact, I better not get attached to any of the products I bought.  I think they'll disappear before I can even reorder.

The solution?  I'm moving to Finland.

[just bee]

I guess that works for Never Again November.  Never again order Lumene because it's all going away.

A review in a nutshell: I liked the products and the consistency of the creams.  However, the oil and one of the creams from the SISU Urban Antidotes collection made with Nordic Pine Bark and Spruce Knot made me feel like I was wearing a pine forest on my face.

I liked the scent but can't recommend it to anyone who might be sensitive to fragrance in their facial products.

For that reason I'd only use these before I go to sleep.  The Glow Reveal smells more like oranges so it's suitable for days and under foundation.

Back to the drawing board.

[just bee]

It occurred to me that the last time I was unable to use my right hand/arm was when I was twelve.  I was in junior high PE, walking to the soccer field and my knee buckled.  Landed on my right arm.

Looooooooooooooooooooooooooong story.  Teacher finally pulled me out of the game when she noticed my arm was a weird color and that it had doubled in size; sister had to pick me up and she didn't drive at the time so we walked home; parents had to leave work to take me to the hospital.  They mixed up the X-rays, put a full cast on a girl with a bruise and sent me home.

Eventually called the house and admitted their error.

Anyway, my hair was down my back and it was too much trouble to wash with my left hand.  And that's the story of my first shag.  As in layered haircut.

History repeats itself and I can wash my hair but it's still a hassle.  Scheduled a hacking tomorrow.  As in cutting all my hair off.

[geezerette]

---

@DelaRose wrote:

---

@just bee wrote:

---

@DelaRose wrote:

@just bee

Thank you sooo much for the story.  It hits so close to home.  My heart is breaking.  I lost my golden to cancer last December at the age of 11.  I couldn't believe when the vet told me that she had cancer because I had taken such good care of this dog only feeding her the best foods, no table scraps, regular exercise, up-to-date on shots, and I had her groomed every 8 weeks.

Now I have only had 2 dogs in my life.  A shepherd/collie/lab mix that I got from the pound when she was a puppy and the golden that I got from a breeder.   Both dogs were incredible pets and it is funny because when you experience losing one you think that you'll be OK when it's time for your next to go.  Well that wasn't my case and in fact losing the golden brought back all the memories of losing my first dog.

I knew that my kids would want to give me another dog so I told my husband to tell them I did not want a new dog because I needed time.  Well guess what I got for Christmas 2 weeks later...........a border collie/lab mix (coincidence that you posted your story?) puppy.  This dog is so sweet and lovable and I do love her; but she is still not like my 1st and 2nd dog and I'm having a problem comparing her all the time to the other 2.  She is not a walking kind of dog and is one of those houdini dogs that can get out of anything.  She's afraid of everybody and everything (she barks at the wind).  It's just gonna take more time for me.

---

@DelaRose

We moved out here with my Boxer and she was misdiagnosed with a pituitary tumor.  Actually, what she had was pancreatic cancer.

It's difficult to lose a pet and it doesn't matter how many we lose: It never gets easier.  And for some reason we feel so guilty.  As if we could have done something to prevent it.

Then we adopted a pair of Boxermatians.  Brother and sister, parents were Boxer and Dalmatian.  Or so we were told.  The most expensive dogs I've ever owned.  They were a bargain at $70 for the pair, but then they started racking up the bills.  Destructive they were.  Then there was doggie daycare.  And then the health issues as they aged.  The male was diagnosed with diabetes and lost his vision soon after that.  I started him on insulin (another reason I started thinking about nursing school).  Then we had his lenses replaced so he could see again.  No, really.

His sister was diagnosed with bladder cancer.  She routinely blew out her knees and required repair.

After they were both gone I promised Better-half that I would resist the urge to run out and get a dog.  Or two.  I kept my promise for two years and it was agony.  Especially because I was doing clinicals at a horrible nursing home and I really needed a dog to get me through it.  I'm not particularly religious but I prayed to God every day on my commute home: Please, God.  I really need a dog.

Then, ready to go to work, I opened the garage door one morning and there was a dog.  I immediately invited him in for breakfast.

We tried to find his owners but just couldn't.  We decided he was an Australian Kelpie because he looked and acted like one.  He was definitely a herder and he thought I was a sheep.  For some reason he would grab my arms with his teeth and try to herd me.  I had a state skills exam scheduled and I was mortified.  I was going to show up with what looked like track marks on my arms.

In a nutshell, we got through this behavior and he has turned out to be the most wonderful dog.  So smart.  Such common sense.  An angel.

But he is at least eight years old now and I'm so scared.  Part of me is thinking he'll be my last.  I'm terrified of something happening to me and BH and then what happens to the dog who is left behind?  I worry.  A lot.

But living without a dog is agony.

We need @geezerette  to tell you about her Rottie.  She had a few behaviors that were a major concern but time has made a difference.

Your dog needs time and careful socialization.  We call our boy the Doggie Ambassador.  We're out often and meet people who have just adopted abused and/or painfully shy dogs and they don't want to mix and mingle.  When we explain that our dog is safe, their dogs will often move towards him, curious.  He just stands there and lets them explore him.

An owner will often say that their dog has never allowed itself to get that close and it seemed okay with it.

And we say, "Of course!  He is the Doggie Ambassador."

You need to find a doggie ambassador.

---

@just bee

Either that or a good therapist.

---

@DelaRose

@just bee

A few behaviors?  She was a total disaster!  I could write a book, but nobody would ever believe it.

@DelaRose, the therapist is probably closer to a solution.  But I think you already know what some of the problem is.  

I was in a similar situation to yours: our beloved companion had died and we both said we didn’t want another dog.  But it was so awful without a dog, I was absolutely miserable.  (I had other things going on at the time, but I didn’t find out until later, and by the time I did, I already had the new dog.)  So we ended up with another dog and she was a monster.  This little innocent puppy was an absolute demon on four legs.  

It was so bad for so long that I even tried to give her away—three times!  But she wouldn’t go.  As I was contemplating the third try, I realized that there was no way I could follow through.  How could I even consider giving up this creature that thought I was a God on earth?  What kind of monster would that make me?  Because when I really analyzed the situation, the problem was more with me than her.  Yes, she had problems, and some were pretty serious.  But one of the biggest impediments to her progress was me.  I couldn’t accept her for what she was.  Despite the fact that she was a totally different breed than the last dog, I was trying to make her into that last dog and was frustrated and po’d when she didn’t act that way.  

I’d love to tell you that after I made a determined effort to accept her for herself everything magically became perfect.  Far from it.  She still ate the woodwork, chased the cat, and was afraid to walk on the road, along with numerous other things.  But I had decided to pick my battles and figure out which behaviors were a priority that I would insist on and which ones I could tolerate and let slide.  Over time, about the time of her second birthday, things just started clicking for her.  So many things we had battled about became easier.  I wish I could say that everything is peachy keen now and she is a perfect dog, but she’s not.  She’s still frustrating and destructive, but I do love her.  Not exactly like the other dog, but for her own unique self.

@DelaRose It probably will take more time.  And more effort on your part, as well as the rest of the family.  But more than likely, it will be worth it.  This dog will never be like your other dog.  She will be herself, and you may very well end up loving her as much as the other dog that was irreplaceable. 

Good luck, and keep us updated on her progress.  I love to hear about people with as many doggie problems as me!!😄

[just bee]

@geezerette

That was just perfect!

[geezerette]

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@just bee wrote:

@geezerette

That was just perfect!

---

@just bee

You always know how to get to me!  Now I’m sitting here typing with tears running down my face.  I’ve seen this look so many times from the monster dog.  It’s also one of the things that haunted me right before that third try at giving her up.  

When I finally crossed The Rainbow Bridge and she was there with all the other pets I’ve loved and lost, what could I possibly say to her to justify my actions?