dogs | Ascension Lifestyle

10 Jan 2023
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My Afternoon As A Canophilic*, Judgmental A****** (And What I Learned)

After months in pandemic solitary without connecting to any other living thing, I felt that my body would explode.

With no one around, I felt stymied. But then, I thought of a clever ruse.

I’d call my brother and tell him that my dog-niece, Sophia, asked to see me.

My brother replied that he didn’t know Sophia used the phone, but in any case, she was busy.

Desperate to get my hands on something, I devised another clever plan.

I’d go to the park and hug a tree.

Canophilia in action

I didn’t acknowledge it at the time, but deep down, I must have realized that, at the park, chances were good I’d find a doggie or two to use for my personal petting purposes.

Walking toward the park, I notice a doggie right away. He and his person are playing on the (fenced-off) ballfield. I could open the gate and say hello, but that would be odd. Suspicious. Awkward.

I nix that idea and continue walking toward the tree. Slowly.

As luck would have it, the puppy and his person are exiting the ballfield just as I am (very slowly) walking by the gate.

“Can I say hello to your dog?” I ask, trying to remain calm and not start jumping up and down.

“Sure!” the guy says. (By this time I’m already deeply involved in puppy nuzzling.)

“He’s so cute!” I yelp. “A puppy puppy!”

“Yep. Just 16 weeks old.”

The puppy, Rufus, and I were both squealing and wriggling with delight. Rufus got so excited he peed. I managed to hold that part of myself intact.

“OK, that’s enough,” says his dad.

We both strike big puppy-eye looks in Dad’s direction asking for more time – but it doesn’t work.

We go our opposite ways, casting longing looks behind us.

Tree-mendous insight

I take a deep breath, shake it off, and continue down the path to go talk to the tree. Tree gives me a warm hello as soon as I come under its branches. I stroke its rough bark and feel calm immediately.

“Good to see you!” Tree greets me. “You used to come here with your dog, Bailey. It’s been a long time. I was wondering when you’d be back!”

“You remember me?” I exclaim, moving in closer so Tree and I can be heart-to-heart. “How do you do it?” I ask. “How do you stand everything that’s going on?”

“You just ‘be’,” says Tree. “You listen. You watch. You grow. Things go by. Things change. You’re still here.”

You’re right. I am here, I realize.

I stand, eyes closed, front-to-front with Tree, then back-to-back. Tree’s presence is strong, centered, serene.

I take a deep breath…then open my eyes…and see….the picnic table.

No picnic

The picnic table, covered with crap! Litter! Garbage! On the table and all over the ground!

“I don’t understand!” I yell. (I don’t think I yelled out loud, but I can’t be sure.) “Who are these people? How can they come to a public place and leave all this crap behind?”

I storm away from Tree and go to get a closer look at the crap.

Food wrappers. Labels. Paper. Cigarette butts.

I stare at it. I fume. And then I think – I have to fix this! So I start picking up the crap. And with every piece, I yell and grouse and complain and judge and fume a little more.

It probably takes me at least four minutes to pick it up. Maybe less. Two minutes. (So I guess there wasn’t as much crap as I thought.)

But it does look a lot better when I finish picking it up and throwing it all away. And I feel better. For at least a minute. Maybe 30 seconds…before I notice something else. How had I missed it? What is that? On the ground? Coming out of the grass?!

Wild, unwanted plants

A weed! Not just a weed, but a sprawling weed. With flowers! Encroaching on the lawn!

“You don’t belong here!” I yell at the weed. Then I get down on my knees and pull it out. (It wasn’t easy.) And then…I see another weed just like it. And I pull that one out, too.

And then another. And another. And another. Soon, I have a whole big pile of weed-parts.

“The gardeners are going to wonder who was digging up the grass,” I think. But I left the shredded weeds in a big pile anyway.

Then, I kept pulling up some more.

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” one of the weeds asks me.

“This is a lawn!” I shout. This is supposed to be grass. You can’t just take over! You don’t belong here!”

For every weed I take out, there is another one. And then I notice that these weeds are entrenched all over the grass. There is no way I could pull them all out. And what difference would it make if I did? They would just come back. Or another one would.

I realize I can’t stop the weeds. But I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.

“Maybe I’m not as tolerant as I think,” I thought.

“Maybe you’re not,” I agreed.

By this time, my hands are filthy and dirt is packed into my nails. In the distance, across the park, puppies are playing. But it doesn’t feel right to go after them. I don’t think it would be very nice to rub dirt into some poor puppy’s fur.

Feeling slightly disgusted with myself, I head back to my car, brushing off my hands and picking the dirt out of my nails as I walk. I know it’s time to go home, but I’m not quite ready to leave.

As I get close to the ballfield, I see two fuzzy bodies playing chase. I notice they’re making their way toward the side field gate. I start brushing my hands off a bit more vigorously.“If I time it right I can meet them on the walkway just as they come out”, I surmise.

Canophilia, Part 2

Sure enough, as I come down the path, two adorable goldendoodles are heading right toward me. BINGO!

“Can I say hello to your puppies?” I ask, crouching down to doggie-reception level. Before either their mom or dad can say yes, I’m ready to receive sloppy kisses.

The dogs, Starbucks and Cappuccino (who does that?) feel just as soft as they look. I indulge in every second of nuzzling I can grab.

Their parents stand by patiently, but I don’t want to push it.

“Thanks for letting me say hello to your puppies,” I say, trying to sound casual.

“Sure!’ they reply and walk off.

“Ahhhh…” The tension that had been building in my body finally releases. I got what I so desperately needed.

As I walk back to my car with a skip in my step I’m suddenly brought up short with a thought that strikes me like a nasty thwack on the nose: “I am a puppy predator! I came to the park with the specific intention of getting my puppy needs met.”

“What if I hadn’t found any doggies?” I ask myself. “How would I have felt then?”

“You would have been one hell of a cranky banana,” I answer back.

I imagine how painful it must be to have serious urges that are not as easily and acceptably met. I think of what a few months of social isolation did to me. What about people who have a lifetime of isolation and rejection?

“Imagine what that leads to,” I think.

I don’t want to think about it. But I do feel a surge of compassion for the pain that drives people to do unreasonable things, just to make the hurting stop.

Then, another thwack!

I realize that I’m not just a puppy predator, I’m also a judgmental specist (one who is prejudiced against particular species). Who am I to decide what plants do or do not belong in a particular place – especially public grounds? Those poor plants were minding their own business until I came along and ripped them out of the ground!

“That must be how some people feel when they see people they feel don’t belong,” I think. “They want to rip them out. I guess I have those kinds of feelings, too. Different situation – same feelings.”

So I have to acknowledge that as angry and frustrated as I get at all the people I think of as dangerous, intolerant, judgmental assholes, I have more in common with them than I’d like to believe or admit.

Except I now believe and admit it.

So, maybe I’m not as bad as I think.

And maybe they’re not as bad as I think, either.

And maybe there’s more than a little hope for us all.

* dog-loving

About the Author:

Susan E. Schwartz is a writer and consultant living in San Mateo, California.

24 Jun 2021
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How To Help Dogs And Cats Manage Separation Anxiety When Their Humans Return To Work

When one of my co-workers found out about a tiny, orphaned kitten that needed a home a few months ago, he didn’t hesitate to adopt it. He says his new companion helped make the months of COVID-19 isolation at home much less stressful.

He is not alone. Animal shelters and breeders across the country have reported record numbers of dog and cat adoptions in recent months.

But after my co-worker returned to work, he says his adorable kitten started urinating on the kitchen counter while he was away.

Another friend is worried about how her dog will react when she returns to the office. Her big, goofy Labrador retriever follows her everywhere, even to the bathroom. When she leaves to run a quick errand, the dog sits by the back door and whines, awaiting her return.

What should these pet owners do?

The problem with sudden changes in routine

A change in routine, such as suddenly being alone for many hours every day, is a major cause of separation anxiety for both dogs and cats.

Separation anxiety is more than a little whimpering when you head out the door. It’s major, unwanted behavior that happens every time you leave or are away.

For dogs and cats, this can mean excessive pacing, barking or howling, whimpering or self-grooming as you get ready to leave. In some cases it can mean urinating or defecating around the house, often in places where scents linger, such as on bedding or rugs, or destroying household items in your absence. Extreme clinginess or neediness is another symptom.

Separation anxiety won’t go away on its own, and it can be difficult to get rid of entirely. But there are ways to manage it. As a clinical veterinarian and professor, I am often asked to help people find ways to ease their pets’ anxiety.

What not to do

First, it’s important to understand that it’s not about you – it’s about your pet. Your dog or cat is not trying to teach you a lesson or get revenge. Animals don’t act out of spite.

Instead, it’s a signal of extreme distress and frustration that should be approached like any other medical ailment. Your pet doesn’t want to experience separation anxiety any more than you want to experience its consequences.

For this reason, punishment is never the answer. For one thing, your pet won’t connect the punishment with something that happened hours – or even a few minutes – earlier. And punishment may only exacerbate your pet’s anxiety and stress.

Similarly, going to the opposite extreme by praising or giving affection when your pet is suffering anxiety also will make the problem worse.

The goal is to create a balanced relationship so your pet tolerates being alone. First, get your pet checked out by a veterinarian to rule out physical conditions, such as a urinary tract infection if your pet urinates in inappropriate places.

Next, make sure your pet gets plenty of exercise and mental stimulation. For dogs, this may mean a long run or brisk walk every day. Getting exercise shortly before you leave the house may put your dog in a more relaxed state while you’re gone. It’s harder to feel stressed when the endorphin levels are elevated. For cats, this could mean a change of environment by being outdoors in a safe, enclosed area such as a “catio.”

Treating separation anxiety with behavior change

Here, we’re talking about your behavior. The goal is to make your absence seem like no big deal. Making a fuss over your pet when you leave or arrive home only makes matters worse. If you treat it like it’s routine, your pet will learn to do the same.

Try to figure out when your pet starts to show signs of anxiety and turn that into a low-key activity. If it’s when you pick up your handbag, for example, practice picking it up and putting it back down several times over a few hours. Similarly, get dressed or put on your shoes earlier than usual but stay home instead of leaving right away. Try starting your car’s engine and then turning it off and walking back inside.

Next, practice short absences. When you’re at home, make it a point to spend some time in another room. In addition, leave the house long enough to run an errand or two, then gradually increase the time that you’re away so that being gone for a full day becomes part of the family routine.

Changing the environment

Boredom makes separation anxiety worse. Providing an activity for your pet while you’re gone, such as a puzzle toy stuffed with treats, or simply hiding treats around the house will make your absence less stressful. Other options for dogs and cats include collars and plug-in devices that release calming pheromones.

To maintain your bond while you’re gone, place a piece of clothing that you have worn recently in a prominent place, such as on your bed or couch, to comfort your pet. Similarly, you can leave the TV or radio on — there are even special programs just for pets — or set up a camera so you can observe and interact with your pet remotely. Some of these come equipped with a laser pointer or treats you can dispense.

Using supplements or medication

In some severe cases, when the animal harms itself or causes property damage, medication or supplements might be necessary. These alter the brain’s neurotransmitters to create a sense of calm.

While some are readily available without a prescription, it’s a good idea to get advice from your veterinarian to determine which are safest and most effective for your pet’s situation. Medication can help reduce the anxiety, making it easier for the pet to learn new coping skills. A behavior modification plan accompanying the use of medication can help manage this problem.

Separation anxiety is difficult for both you and your pet. But a few simple changes can make a huge difference as life returns to some semblance of normal.

About the Author:

Lori M. Teller is a Clinical Associate Professor, Veterinary Telehealth, at Texas A&M University

16 Jan 2021
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Get a Dog, Save the Planet

Dogs add a lot to our lives as companions, guards, playmates, and helpers in our fight against Global Climate Change!

My cousin Mark is a pretty smart guy who reads widely. (All my cousins are above average.) Here is what Mark sent to me in an e-mail about dogs:

“Professor Temple Grandin says that dogs are genetic wolves that have co-evolved with humans for 100,000 years, maybe more. Hence dogs and humans have complementary advantages and deficits. Humans used to have a better sense of hearing and smell, now dogs are better than us at those. Humans walk upright and have better vision and organizational skills, so dogs depend on us to see things and try to find them. Both are social creatures. So the lesson is that Nature has bundled the hardware and software for these skills and abilities between the two species. Unbundling them carries certain risks, so you should try to live with a dog if you can.”

I agree that dogs and humans are a pretty good combination. We’ve had a dog for about a year now. Cooper is a medium-sized Labradoodle, which is a Labrador Retriever and Poodle mix. He’s a great dog and we love him a lot. He’s heartbreakingly cute and cuddly. He has a Lab’s great disposition and a Poodle’s smarts. We think he’s the best dog ever.

But, along with being a good partner, is Cooper an energy efficient addition to our household? Are pets, and dogs in particular, a step in the right direction in the battle against global warming and the fight for energy security? Is Underdog more than a cartoon?

I think “bundling” ourselves with animals is a good idea for lots of reasons, but here is why I think dogs are energy efficient:

Dogs add warmth in the winter and stay outside most of the time in the summer, so they don’t add much to a house’s cooling load.
Dogs add fur in the winter and cool themselves using their tongues. Try that, humans!
When he has nothing to do, Cooper lays down flat as a pancake and barely moves, thereby conserving energy.
Dogs are great alarm systems and don’t even need batteries.
Dogs eat stuff that humans throw away. They will clean your plates if you let them, saving water and energy.
Because dogs need to be walked, they cause their owners to exercise, reducing their owners’ appetite and therefore their food intake (that’s how it’s supposed to work).
Dogs give you unconditional love and so you don’t have to drive your car to visit family and friends.

What’s your dog’s energy pawprint?

About the Author:

Jim Gunshinan was in turn Assistant Editor, Managing Editor, Editor, and Senior Editor at Home Energy Magazine/Building Performance Journal for 20 years. He is the editor of No Regrets Remodeling and was inducted in 2015 into the Building Performance Institute’s Building Performance Hall of Fame. He now writes on energy, the environment, and spirituality.