My Facebook friends have seen a recent upsurge in my posts about dogs: dog rescue,
dog toys, dog nutrition, dog behavior, and sharing endless cute
pictures of my own dogs. Those who have known me longest know
that this interest in dogs is not new for me--I was involved in animal
rescue beginning around age 12 and my relationship with my pit bull mix
Debo was one of the closest I've had with any being in my life (and that
so many people genuinely loved Debo comforts me on days like these when
I sorely miss him). What Debo and I had was special and I think goes
above and beyond just a human/dog relationship, so just solely based on
my experience with him, I would not call myself a "dog person," though I
am, but more on that in a minute. When Debo came into my life, it
coincided with me entering adulthood and my priorities shifted from
animal rights and rescue to more selfish needs and wants. I was 18 and I
entered a totally ME phase. Though Debo was my love, I retreated from
my activism with other animals. And that stuck for a long time.
Enter now when my dear friends are bombarded with dog posts in their feed practically every day from me. I am grateful to those who haven't hidden me from their feed and wish there was a way to know who has hidden me because really, I don't see a point in social networking if you're not actually engaging with me--but that's another matter. In recent years I've been depressed over my life. I've earned scraps here and there from self-employment and stopped being as socially active as I used to be. I had lost confidence in myself and it's been a struggle to assess my life over and over trying to find a way out. But that started to change a bit with a dog named Hudson.
When Debo died he left a patch on my heart--a spot that will forever be owned by him. But I felt lost and lonely and ached for his companionship. I knew our house wasn't ready for another dog, mostly because of feelings of betrayal in "replacing" him. But I also knew that there were dogs coming out the wazoo in Atlanta that needed homes and here we had a loving, generous, and committed empty home. In a moment of weakness I looked through listing for pit bulls in various shelters, knowing in the back of my mind it was incredibly stupid because I couldn't even step foot in a shelter or look at shelter dogs knowing they were on death row. But there he was, this pit mix named Hudson. His face jumped out at me like no other I'd seen. I felt him, I knew him, I wanted him in my life! And when I ran the idea past my mom, who I live with and off of (did I mention I haven't made good money in a while?), she said no. I understood that her no was not because she didn't want the responsibility or the financial burden but because her heart wasn't ready. And because I'm not a child anymore, I accepted and respected that.
But what about Hudson? Now there was this dog I was attached to, and in calling the shelter to inquire about him had learned that he had already been kept for two months and was red lined for the upcoming weekend (for those of you not familiar with the terminology redlining or red tagging, it is a way of saying they are on the euthanasia list). I went nuts! I went out of my mind with grief for this dog. And through tears and desperation, I started posting his picture all over Facebook and sending out emails and begged--outright begged people to help find him a foster or home. I called the shelter every day for his status and told them to hold on, that someone cared about him and had picked up his cause. The woman was touched, as were the other shelter workers (because, you know, they are not heartless people who kill animals for fun), and they extended his life another couple days to give us both a chance.
And then a miracle happened and I found a rescue willing to pull him. And then a friend of my boyfriend's went down there and adopted him for their family! I was so relieved I couldn't see straight. When time came for me to meet Hudson I found him just as wonderful in person, though his manners were atrocious. For the couple hours I was at his house I worked on some basic leash training and sit commands, because I do little bitty training exercises with every dog I meet out of habit. In the long run, Hudson has been a bit of a handful for his family. They love him but he developed separation anxiety and a taste for wood--windowsills, baseboards, you get the idea. I laugh that I dodged the bullet on that one but I am also relieved that he had a home and his life was spared. And I swore not to look at shelter dogs again, something that I have since obviously gotten over.
I still wanted a dog, though. Mom's heart healed and we started a search for our new family member among rescue groups. Enter Turnip. Many know his story already and can read how we acquired our other rescue Okra also in their photo album. These dogs have been an educational experience for me, as many of my friends know. Debo was so easy. He was well-mannered and attentive, his only behavior "problem" being licking people to death. But I had had him in my life literally since he was born and I was a confident, energetic, fearless young woman then. And I had already learned a lot about nutrition and safe toys with him and also a whole lot about veterinary medicine, holistic and conventional, due to his health issues later in life. But wow Turnip and Okra had more in store for me! They are two wild, willful, neurotic dogs and it's been a journey of patience, education, and self-evaluation dealing with both of their needs. And I can say with certainty that they are the reason for my renewed flame for dogs and how I officially have recognized that I am a dog person.
When I say that I'm a "dog person," that isn't shorthand for "dog-loving person," though I am certainly that. I can't say honestly that I've loved every dog I've met because, let's face it, just like people, some dogs are just assholes. But I can safely say that I genuinely love to meet and interact with every dog I come across. They inspire me, they fill me with joy, and they are a constant reminder to me of my own animal nature.
Also, on the matter of cats, I like them just fine and they seem to really like me. I respect them, read their body language fairly clearly, and offer plenty of affection within the boundaries they set for me. But I don't have the same visceral reaction to cats that I do with dogs and that leads me back to what I mean in defining myself a dog person. I have noticed that people oftentimes define themselves or others as cat people or dog people and while I think it's understood that that means cat or dog loving, it's also understood that people are saying that people can and do generally exhibit character traits similar to those of cats or dogs. I'll explain from my own perspective as a person who has cared for both cats and dogs for the entirety of their lives for approximately 30 years but yet still define myself as a dog person.
I am a highly social animal. I crave meeting people and will talk to them about whatever. I don't even care if I disagree with people as long as we find a common ground of civility. I am passionate about those of my morals that are unchangeable: kindness, compassion, equality. And when I encounter cruelty, disregard for others, and other awful things, I growl first and then I bite (not in a literal sense. I'm not a physically violent person). I react emotionally to smells and sounds and touch and I'm a fairly tactile person.
But as much as I love being social I equally love space. Space and time to myself to be quiet or contemplate or just stare at a wall. I get edgy and neurotic if I can't have time to myself, especially if I've had an extended period of extreme social activity. I need to regroup and find peace.
I am not afraid of dirt or bodily fluids, which is a damn good thing. I have bitten my nails since forever so in a sense anything I touch ends up in my mouth in some way or form. When I itch, I try to scratch, no matter how socially awkward the place of the itch may be. I've had dogs pee on me, poop on me, sneeze on me, bleed on me, and I've pulled poop and other poopy matter out of dogs' butts when they've needed help. I encourage dogs to lick me right on the lips. I wrestle my dogs and have allowed all of them mouth play (after teaching them what is too hard--by biting back--and that I'm the ONLY one they can do it with. I don't recommend this to everyone, it's just worked for me).
I am a dog person.
Many people can't stand to be licked by dogs, thinking it's gross. And you can imagine how they would react to pee or poop! They aren't dog people. And that's totally OK! But the more I've come to see myself as a dog person and have embraced it, the happier and more balanced I've become.
Since I have started to frequently share posts for dogs in need of foster and homes, I have assisted in saving the lives of four dogs in a year (three in just one week!). While I can hardly take credit for anything other than social networking, I did step foot into a shelter to help pull two dogs within hours of death, effectively getting over my fear of shelters. Seeing real life-altering results has restored some of my once glorious self-confidence. Since I have been spending more time learning about dog behavior in an attempt to help my dogs through their issues, I have learned a ton about my own behavior, body language, and emotions. Indeed, in the several months since Turnip came into my life, every month has gotten progressively busier for me from filling my days with volunteer work or research. I got CERT training, became the president of a local chapter of an international non-profit service organization, have joined my local fire and rescue reserve, have dipped my foot into the waters of animal rescue, and *might* be starting a book. It's more than a coincidence that I have accomplished all of this just in the time I've lived with Turnip and Okra.
They challenge me every time they drive me crazy to find my inner calm and to not get lost in disappointment or frustration. Every time I have a breakthrough with them I feel pride in myself and them. And the busier I am with my life, the more I find myself playing with them and interacting with them. It's like I have energy to spare and want us to mutually benefit from it.
And now I have a job interview with a local pet supply store that is also involved with animal rescue. It's like a sign from the universe that I'm on the right track with how I've been shaping my priorities. To be a dog person is to be independent and loyal, to be determined and vulnerable, to give everything you have hoping for a good outcome, and dealing with poop, lots of poop. I may not get this job--certainly there are others with more professional experience. But I hold out hope that they might give me a chance to show what I can do! And then I can actually get paid to be a dog person and surround myself with other dog people. I'll be part of a bigger pack just, you know, without the butt sniffing...
I can't give anyone advice as I am still learning to listen to my own. But I can say that being a dog person has changed my life for the better. If you think you may be a dog or even a cat person, maybe consider adopting or at least fostering? It will not only save the life of two animals (yours and the next one to take it's place in a rescue or shelter), but it may just change yours.
Enter now when my dear friends are bombarded with dog posts in their feed practically every day from me. I am grateful to those who haven't hidden me from their feed and wish there was a way to know who has hidden me because really, I don't see a point in social networking if you're not actually engaging with me--but that's another matter. In recent years I've been depressed over my life. I've earned scraps here and there from self-employment and stopped being as socially active as I used to be. I had lost confidence in myself and it's been a struggle to assess my life over and over trying to find a way out. But that started to change a bit with a dog named Hudson.
When Debo died he left a patch on my heart--a spot that will forever be owned by him. But I felt lost and lonely and ached for his companionship. I knew our house wasn't ready for another dog, mostly because of feelings of betrayal in "replacing" him. But I also knew that there were dogs coming out the wazoo in Atlanta that needed homes and here we had a loving, generous, and committed empty home. In a moment of weakness I looked through listing for pit bulls in various shelters, knowing in the back of my mind it was incredibly stupid because I couldn't even step foot in a shelter or look at shelter dogs knowing they were on death row. But there he was, this pit mix named Hudson. His face jumped out at me like no other I'd seen. I felt him, I knew him, I wanted him in my life! And when I ran the idea past my mom, who I live with and off of (did I mention I haven't made good money in a while?), she said no. I understood that her no was not because she didn't want the responsibility or the financial burden but because her heart wasn't ready. And because I'm not a child anymore, I accepted and respected that.
But what about Hudson? Now there was this dog I was attached to, and in calling the shelter to inquire about him had learned that he had already been kept for two months and was red lined for the upcoming weekend (for those of you not familiar with the terminology redlining or red tagging, it is a way of saying they are on the euthanasia list). I went nuts! I went out of my mind with grief for this dog. And through tears and desperation, I started posting his picture all over Facebook and sending out emails and begged--outright begged people to help find him a foster or home. I called the shelter every day for his status and told them to hold on, that someone cared about him and had picked up his cause. The woman was touched, as were the other shelter workers (because, you know, they are not heartless people who kill animals for fun), and they extended his life another couple days to give us both a chance.
And then a miracle happened and I found a rescue willing to pull him. And then a friend of my boyfriend's went down there and adopted him for their family! I was so relieved I couldn't see straight. When time came for me to meet Hudson I found him just as wonderful in person, though his manners were atrocious. For the couple hours I was at his house I worked on some basic leash training and sit commands, because I do little bitty training exercises with every dog I meet out of habit. In the long run, Hudson has been a bit of a handful for his family. They love him but he developed separation anxiety and a taste for wood--windowsills, baseboards, you get the idea. I laugh that I dodged the bullet on that one but I am also relieved that he had a home and his life was spared. And I swore not to look at shelter dogs again, something that I have since obviously gotten over.
I still wanted a dog, though. Mom's heart healed and we started a search for our new family member among rescue groups. Enter Turnip. Many know his story already and can read how we acquired our other rescue Okra also in their photo album. These dogs have been an educational experience for me, as many of my friends know. Debo was so easy. He was well-mannered and attentive, his only behavior "problem" being licking people to death. But I had had him in my life literally since he was born and I was a confident, energetic, fearless young woman then. And I had already learned a lot about nutrition and safe toys with him and also a whole lot about veterinary medicine, holistic and conventional, due to his health issues later in life. But wow Turnip and Okra had more in store for me! They are two wild, willful, neurotic dogs and it's been a journey of patience, education, and self-evaluation dealing with both of their needs. And I can say with certainty that they are the reason for my renewed flame for dogs and how I officially have recognized that I am a dog person.
When I say that I'm a "dog person," that isn't shorthand for "dog-loving person," though I am certainly that. I can't say honestly that I've loved every dog I've met because, let's face it, just like people, some dogs are just assholes. But I can safely say that I genuinely love to meet and interact with every dog I come across. They inspire me, they fill me with joy, and they are a constant reminder to me of my own animal nature.
Also, on the matter of cats, I like them just fine and they seem to really like me. I respect them, read their body language fairly clearly, and offer plenty of affection within the boundaries they set for me. But I don't have the same visceral reaction to cats that I do with dogs and that leads me back to what I mean in defining myself a dog person. I have noticed that people oftentimes define themselves or others as cat people or dog people and while I think it's understood that that means cat or dog loving, it's also understood that people are saying that people can and do generally exhibit character traits similar to those of cats or dogs. I'll explain from my own perspective as a person who has cared for both cats and dogs for the entirety of their lives for approximately 30 years but yet still define myself as a dog person.
I am a highly social animal. I crave meeting people and will talk to them about whatever. I don't even care if I disagree with people as long as we find a common ground of civility. I am passionate about those of my morals that are unchangeable: kindness, compassion, equality. And when I encounter cruelty, disregard for others, and other awful things, I growl first and then I bite (not in a literal sense. I'm not a physically violent person). I react emotionally to smells and sounds and touch and I'm a fairly tactile person.
But as much as I love being social I equally love space. Space and time to myself to be quiet or contemplate or just stare at a wall. I get edgy and neurotic if I can't have time to myself, especially if I've had an extended period of extreme social activity. I need to regroup and find peace.
I am not afraid of dirt or bodily fluids, which is a damn good thing. I have bitten my nails since forever so in a sense anything I touch ends up in my mouth in some way or form. When I itch, I try to scratch, no matter how socially awkward the place of the itch may be. I've had dogs pee on me, poop on me, sneeze on me, bleed on me, and I've pulled poop and other poopy matter out of dogs' butts when they've needed help. I encourage dogs to lick me right on the lips. I wrestle my dogs and have allowed all of them mouth play (after teaching them what is too hard--by biting back--and that I'm the ONLY one they can do it with. I don't recommend this to everyone, it's just worked for me).
I am a dog person.
Many people can't stand to be licked by dogs, thinking it's gross. And you can imagine how they would react to pee or poop! They aren't dog people. And that's totally OK! But the more I've come to see myself as a dog person and have embraced it, the happier and more balanced I've become.
Since I have started to frequently share posts for dogs in need of foster and homes, I have assisted in saving the lives of four dogs in a year (three in just one week!). While I can hardly take credit for anything other than social networking, I did step foot into a shelter to help pull two dogs within hours of death, effectively getting over my fear of shelters. Seeing real life-altering results has restored some of my once glorious self-confidence. Since I have been spending more time learning about dog behavior in an attempt to help my dogs through their issues, I have learned a ton about my own behavior, body language, and emotions. Indeed, in the several months since Turnip came into my life, every month has gotten progressively busier for me from filling my days with volunteer work or research. I got CERT training, became the president of a local chapter of an international non-profit service organization, have joined my local fire and rescue reserve, have dipped my foot into the waters of animal rescue, and *might* be starting a book. It's more than a coincidence that I have accomplished all of this just in the time I've lived with Turnip and Okra.
They challenge me every time they drive me crazy to find my inner calm and to not get lost in disappointment or frustration. Every time I have a breakthrough with them I feel pride in myself and them. And the busier I am with my life, the more I find myself playing with them and interacting with them. It's like I have energy to spare and want us to mutually benefit from it.
And now I have a job interview with a local pet supply store that is also involved with animal rescue. It's like a sign from the universe that I'm on the right track with how I've been shaping my priorities. To be a dog person is to be independent and loyal, to be determined and vulnerable, to give everything you have hoping for a good outcome, and dealing with poop, lots of poop. I may not get this job--certainly there are others with more professional experience. But I hold out hope that they might give me a chance to show what I can do! And then I can actually get paid to be a dog person and surround myself with other dog people. I'll be part of a bigger pack just, you know, without the butt sniffing...
I can't give anyone advice as I am still learning to listen to my own. But I can say that being a dog person has changed my life for the better. If you think you may be a dog or even a cat person, maybe consider adopting or at least fostering? It will not only save the life of two animals (yours and the next one to take it's place in a rescue or shelter), but it may just change yours.
