IN THE DOG WORLD
IT'S NOT WHAT YOU KNOW
BUT WHO YOU KNOW
Journal of Healing – Aug. 6, 2003

By Mary Koch

Am I ever hot under the dog collar!

Yes, it’s me again – Sadie, the people dog. And no, I am not having a good summer.

Here it is, the best time of year for humans to throw sticks into the river so I can chase them, and what do the humans do? They go away on vacation, or they hide in the house with windows closed, blinds pulled and air conditioning running. Don’t they know the best air conditioning in the world is built in? They would feel ever so much better if they’d just let their tongues hang out, drool and pant. Works for me!

And then there’s Ben, the elderly golden retriever who joined our household last winter. Ben experienced his first summer shave. He was dubious at first when Amy, our personal groomer, turned on her razor and all that blonde fur started flying. But he soon learned that less fur makes for more summer energy. Sometimes, in Ben’s case, too much energy.

* * *

FOR EXAMPLE: It's a nice calm morning. Ben and I are snoozing while The Boss relaxes in his wheelchair, listening to a book on tape. I’m enjoying pleasant dreams of overturned garbage cans when suddenly Ben starts barking and I go on high alert. I join him at the front window and add my bark. He may be first to sound the alarm, but I have a more boisterous bark. He’s tenor; I’m baritone.

Well, we’re barking away, The Boss is glaring at us and the Boss Lady comes running into the room yelling "Quiet down! Quiet!" Strange that she yells "Quiet!" when she’s the loudest one of us all.

So I ask Ben, why are we barking? He answers that he thinks possibly there may be a squirrel up that tree. I’m wasting my barks on something he thinks possibly may be? I explain to him, in one short snarl, that I need to save my voice for more important events, such as UPS deliveries.

But that’s still not the worst part of my summer. The worst part was when somebody wrote a letter to the editor criticizing, of all humans, the city’s animal control officer. I was horrified. Pardon my French, but that writer doesn’t know his (deleted) from his (deleted). And believe you me, I’m well acquainted with (deleteds)!

* * *

TO BEGIN with, I’ve never understood why we have an animal control officer. We all know it’s humans that need controlling. But do you ever hear of a human control officer?

So here’s this guy with an impossible job title, but who still works hard and with whom I happen to be on personal terms. He stops by every once in a while for a chat with the Boss Lady. My name comes up frequently. He obviously enjoys discussing my many merits. Nice of him to stop by and reassure the Boss Lady that she is privileged to live with one of the finer canines in town.

The Boss Lady needs that kind of positive reinforcement. Sometimes she’s a bundle of insecurities. Just the other day I overheard her talking to the boss: "I never know what Sadie’s going to pull next."

Then I heard her spell as The Boss eye-blinked his advice: YOU HAVE TO THINK LIKE A DOG.