We Don’t Deserve You

You’ve heard that phrase before: Dogs, we don’t deserve them. Or you’ve heard it with cats or any other pet. Pets bring joy to our lives, in most cases. I’m looking at you Nola, and your propensity to bring destruction to our house! And yet, I can’t help but love the big idiot, even after she jumps on the table and eats an entire bag of pill pockets, which she then shits out in the most horrific diarrhea stream ever witness by human eyes.

But that phrase – “we don’t deserve you” – has more meaning than us merely not deserving the unerring love that a dog might afford us in a time of need, or the affection of a cat that would otherwise believe we’re the worst owners on earth because we left an empty spot in their food bowl. Oh, the humanity! No, it also refers to the fact that some people simply don’t deserve pets because they’re bad people.

Right now, at the house across the street, there are two dogs that spend 80% of their lives out in the yard. I hear them – and see them – every morning when I take my littlest puppy, Dwight – who is taking therapy walks every day for going through a double femoral head ostectomy, for his morning solo walk. They bark at me and wish I would come over and play with them, love on them, give them snacks. But I can’t do that. I’m not their owner (I actually hate that term in reference to pets because it makes them sound like slaves – I prefer “pet parent”), and I don’t want to have the police called on me because I was trespassing on someone’s property to love on their animals.

Above are the aforementioned poor puppy dogs who sit outside all day. They just want love!

Periodically through the day, when I either let my own dogs out or walk them through the neighborhood on one of our many daily walks (we call them “walkies”), I’ll see these two dogs at the house across the street. They always bark and wag their tails at me. When I’m in my own yard (surrounded by a wall and gate that I can see through), I’ll hear them dragging their empty food/water dishes across the pavement of their patio, and it upsets me.

Where are your parents? Why don’t they love you? Why are they okay with you being alone (no, simply having each other isn’t enough, in my opinion)?

Seeing how some people treat their pets confirms to me that I’m an amazing pet parent. You should see my daily routines with them. I have three dogs, two Pomeranian boys and a white border collie/shepherd mix. Each of them has their own food that they eat (based on age, dietary restrictions, medical needs, and appetite), and I meticulously make each of their three totally different food bowls twice a day. When I wake in the morning, while the dogs are outside, I give each of the cats (we have two) their own pieces of dried chicken, something we discovered they love more than life itself, before their doggie siblings can get to it.

My pets have better healthcare than I do. I take them to the doctor for the slightest cough, the first inkling of discomfort or pain, or if they just seem out of sorts. The last time I went to the doctor was when I was in the Air Force and got smacked in the face by a frisbee (during frisbee football for squadron PT) which resulted in several stitches because I had braces, and the inside of my lip resembled raw hamburger because of it. This was 16 years ago.

The point is, I go out of my way for my pets. When Dwight, our puppy, honks at me, I drop what I’m doing and give him attention. When Nola whines, I let her outside, supervised, and let her do her business, then play with her. When Shireen, my Himalayan smoosh-faced cat, screams in my ear, I pet her, because clearly that’s what she wants.

You have to be there for your pets as much as, or more than, they are there for you. They don’t exist solely for you to occasionally give a scritch behind the ear and then toss outside for 15 hours. If our pets had it their way, they wouldn’t need you at all. So do more for them. Love them more. Be with them more. Provide them things you would provide for a human in your family that you love. My puppy has had two Squishmallow beds because he destroyed the first by projectile vomiting on it several times. But he loves them! And I love him.

Be there for them, don’t just make them be there for you. Otherwise it tells me that you don’t deserve them.

And now: Pet Tax.