The Dog Blog with Kathryn Socie

When Did This Happen?

By Kathryn Socie, 6-05-08

I can’t be the only one who’s noticed the shift in our relationship with dogs. With entirely new industries emerging to address their psychological and emotional needs alone, something definitely changed.  Even the television image of the dog ingrained in the American consciousness has swung from that of Lassie, the faithful, courageous Collie, living in service to his people, to Wishbone, the well-read Jack Russell making parallels between the literary classics and life’s dilemmas (all beautifully executed in period appropriate outfits). Somewhere, nestled in between finding lost children and discussing the philosophical import of Huxley, is the reality of the relationship I have with my dogs.  One decidedly steeped in servitude. Mine.

Both of my dogs are capable of working, having been bred to make ranch life a bit easier, but instead they are unemployed lay-abouts.  Just because they live a semi-urban, apartment dwelling lifestyle sans large animals doesn’t mean two, very intelligent, highly capable, cow dogs can’t do work of some sort.  They could bring in the newspaper, gather the laundry, or perhaps wipe their paws on the way through the door, all very simple things that don’t require thumbs.  Instead, they snooze on their organic hemp orthopedic pillows awaiting the next outdoor adventure on which I will escort and entertain them.

I spend hours, daily, trailing behind my dogs holding bags filled with their poo.  I feed them free-range kibble made from non-processed meat and whole grains served in lovely personalized ceramic bowls.  I have accrued debt, buying them beds, toys and accessories- collars with matching leashes, pewter medallion tags, several chuck-it ball launchers for home and on the go.  I pour over catalogs of high-end designer dog items dreaming and drooling over what could be.

I am not alone. In fact, I am but one among the masses. According to a recent article in Businessweek Americans spend $41 billion a year on their pets—more than the gross domestic product of all but 64 countries in the world.” Which is an astounding and in some ways appalling number.  Sure, 63% of Americans have wafts of fur floating around their animal-occupied homes, but providing quality care for even this many hardly requires 41 billion dollars.  In a world filled with injustices, starvation and war, I can’t help but feel terribly guilty for my participation in maintaining this number.

In my defense, science has validated the warm fuzzies and health benefits I get from my dogs (through arguably unnecessary research). So, while I admittedly remain sheltered from the realities of life in a third world nation, I am an American woman pursuing a career, delaying having children, living thousands of miles away from my family and as such I live with a hefty emotional burden. I choose to assuage the isolation of modern life and quell my maternal drive through borderline obsession with my dogs. At the very least, this diversion stimulates the economy and keeps me out of AA meetings.

Even still, as I was strolling down the street with my emotional baggage clipped to the end of the leash, I couldn’t help but wonder when dogs quit working for us, took to couches all across America and began living an entirely catered existence?

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