Of Dogs and Men
A former wife told me, “Gary, I think you care more about dogs than you do people.” I looked at her impassively, replying, “Depends on which dogs and people you’re talking about.”
It was a flippant response to a serious observation. Generally speaking, I did feel closer to dogs than I did people back then. It wasn’t because I deemed humans to be less worthy than canines. Far from it. My fondness for dogs stemmed from the fact that they made me feel less alienated. No one spoke of service dogs for veterans with readjustment issues at the time, but that was precisely the role of my first dog, a Doberman I named, Macho.
At 100 pounds, Macho was larger than your average Doberman. He was only eight weeks old when I began training him to heal. I read everything I could find on the subject of dog obedience training. When he was old enough, we enrolled in an eight-week obedience class, at the end of which he was awarded the blue ribbon for top dog in the class.
After that, we enrolled in a protection class in which he also shined. Over the course of our ten years together, I would occasionally give Macho the command, “Watch him!” just so he wouldn’t get rusty. But we never faced a situation in which it was necessary to give the command, “Get him!”. I am very happy about that. Macho had a sweet disposition.
Once he was fully trained, I never used a leash. As for obedience commands—come, sit, down, heal, and stay—we operated solely on hand signals. One day I gave him a test. It was on the spacious lawn in front of my office building at the University of Wyoming. I gave Macho the commands to sit and stay. Then I walked down to the street, got in my car, and drove around the block. When I returned, he was still sitting there.
I’ve had six dogs since then—two more Dobermans, three German Shepherds, and a beagle. They were all good dogs, but I never had the complete trust in them that I had with Macho. To illustrate the point, I’ll share another story. It took place on a Saturday morning in downtown Laramie. After putting Macho down and giving him the hand signal to stay, my wife and I walked into a shop. I happened to be looking outside when I spotted a family walking toward the shop. They were distracted and hadn’t noticed Macho lying there. But their little girl, a toddler, did. She was about six feet from the dog when she scampered towards him, squealing and flailing her arms as toddlers do. Just as she got to him, she stumbled and fell on top of Macho. I watched the horrified looks on the parents’ faces. The father quickly picked up his daughter. I saw no reason to rush outside. Complete trust.
So, as you can see, I have a special attachment to dogs. They provided me with the kind of companionship that I needed. That said, if someone were to ask me now, “Gary, do you care more about dogs than you do people?” I can honestly answer, No, I do not.
I’m not sure the same can be said for the majority of Americans. I get that feeling each time I see one of those sad commercials on television showing images of horribly mistreated dogs and cats, with Sarah McLachlan as spokesperson, asking, “Will you be an angel for a helpless animal? Every day innocent animals are abused, beaten, and neglected. And they’re crying out for help.”
I’m as disturbed by those commercials as the next person. I recall nights when the temperature would fall below zero and thinking, My God! There are dogs and cats out there unsheltered and freezing!
I’m embarrassed to admit that I can’t recall ever thinking, My God! There are homeless people out there freezing! And I know I’m not alone. Why is that? Think about it. Why is there such an abundance of compassion for suffering animals and so little for suffering human beings? I’m aware of how some people would answer that question: Because those poor animals are innocent, unlike the humans who freely chose the life of an alcoholic or a drug addict.
I have a response to that narrow-minded point of view. First of all, it is a well-documented fact that for a good many homeless people, the cause of their homelessness is the trauma they suffered in childhood. In his book, Rough Sleepers, Tracy Kidder cites the example of a homeless man named Nick whose mother slit her wrists in front of him when he was a child, saying, “See what you’ve made me do.” Nick was then sent to a foster home where he was beaten and put in a cage when he misbehaved. To rephrase something Sarah McLachlan said about animals in her commercial, every day innocent children are abused, beaten, and neglected. Some manage to recover. Many do not.
Then there’s the issue of mental illness, a common cause of chronic homelessness. Are these people less deserving of basic shelter than you or me?
Regarding those who are homeless as a consequence of lifestyle choices, do you really want to say that they deserve to be homeless? Not me. I agree with Dr. Jim O’Connell, a doctor who has devoted his entire professional career to helping the homeless. According to Dr. O’Connell, “Housing homeless people is mandatory. A human right.”
One final thought. The next time you see a homeless person, reflect on the old saying, “There, but for the grace of God go I.”