Don't Get a Dog!

Today I was walking Dog in the park and we came across a mom with three little kids. Dog, being the social, party animal that he is, immediately assailed the kids.

“Hey! Sniff, sniff! You smell like you’ve spilled some food on yourselves! Cool!” I imagined him thinking as he proceeded to lick the remnants of lunch from their clothes and hands and mouths.

Then they played that familiar game of “I want you, No I don’t,” as a toddler reached out his hand like he was going to give Dog a big, happy pet on the head, and then, at the last second he pulled away, running and giggling. Dog loved it! Playing hard-to-get works! The little boy teased, then ran fast away and Dog chased him like a rabbit.

The weary mom, with eyes that conveyed a glimmer of hope of deliverance in a furry package, turned to me and said, “That’s what I need! A dog like this that will tire the kids out!”

Uh, oh…

And then she proceeded to talk to me about dogs, and the idea of getting a dog, and questions, questions, questions…

Which brings me to my point. If anyone asks me if they should get a dog, I always same the same thing. Don’t do it!

Whenever the subject of puppies wags its fluffy tail, you always hear the same old admonitions--they pee on your carpet and chew up your favorite slippers and cry all night when you try to make them sleep in a crate. But those are merely minor inconveniences.

The real reason you should never, ever get a dog is that life as you know it will completely change. You will worry and obsess and feel guilty when you have to leave the house. You will have outrageous bills for crazy things that you can’t now imagine like LL Bean goose-down doggie beds and stomach-pumping vet bills when your dog devours a whole Chocolate Easter bunny left carelessly within jumping range.

Your freedom will be a thing of the past. You won’t be able to jet off to Tahiti on a whim or have sex on the kitchen floor. (But, of course, as Meg Ryan says in When Harry Met Sally, “We never really did that anyway.”)

Oh, all the clichés are true, of course. And people love to compare puppies and babies. Like children, dogs bring joy and playfulness and laughter to our sometimes too-serious grown-up lives. And, along with all the trouble, the the love can be overwhelming and astonishing and totally worth it—if you are ready for that kind of surprise and sacrifice.

And, although, with children, it mostly turns out ok, even if (like me) you have absolutely no clue what it really means to be completely responsible for another living being that depends on you for everything. With kids, once you plunge ahead, there is no easy way out. After six months, you can’t just dump your offspring in a shelter because the baby is way more work than you ever imagined. You pretty much have to go ahead and finish the job of parenting, or go to jail or hire a really good nanny or do a half-assed job of it and have to deal with the guilt and sorrow of having your kids turn out bad or maybe even writing a terrible memoir about their childhood.

So, it mostly turns out ok with kids, because we are forced into finishing what we start, and also because we human beings are at least a teeny bit narcissistic. We see our kids, a little bit of our own DNA with our nose or the frown of our brow or even our own muley personality and we love them because we desperately want to love ourselves but we don’t know how, or it feels a little too embarassing. Having a child, somewhat in our own image, gives us the chance to heal, to love the parts of ourselves that we resist. To see the spark of the light and brilliance and possibility in our flaws (or in spite of our flaws) that we are normally too harsh and self-loathing and critical to imagine.

So, even though you have absolutely no idea what is in store for you when you venture into parenthood, you will most likely do ok.

With Doggie Parenthood, not so much.

Because, as much as we love our dogs and identify with them and believe that they are our children, they are not. And, it’s much easier to get away with being selfish with a dog than with a child. Dogs can look at you with those big, brown, liquid, longing eyes, but they can’t verbalize, “Mom, how come you work so much? I could use a little more quality time, here.”

And you pretty much don't have to worry about what other people think. There are no mothers from the preschool class judging what a good doggie parent you are--whether you offer snacks with partially hydrogenated oils or let the dog watch too much TV.

No social service agency is going to knock on your door if you leave your dog in a pen for hours on end or never take him for a walk. You can neglect a dog in so many ways without getting arrested or even raising the ire of your friends and neighbors.

And, so much more so than children, dogs are forgiving. (And they don't have opposable thumbs, so you don't have to worry about them penning that nasty memoir on your computer.) You can let them down in so many ways and they will still love you--still come rushing to the door when to greet you as if you are some rock-star combination of The Dog Whisperer and the neighborhood butcher.

Dogs can be an easy path to the most selfish benefits of love, even if you neglect messy parts, like giving of yourself freely and caring more about the other person (or dog) than yourself, that make love the amazing spiritual journey that it is. Unlike parenthood, you don’t become a dog owner by mistake. You must make a conscious decision to sacrifice and learn and grow and love a little bit too much.

And, that’s exactly why you should never convince someone to get a dog. Talk them out of it. Tell them how much trouble a dog is. How much work dogs are and emphasize potty-training. (which, like the idea of changing diapers, tends to spook the timid and the uninitiated.)

So, whatever you do, Don't Get a Dog.

And, if you ignore my advice, you could possibly be in for the most marvelous, expensive, frustrating, troublesome, time-consuming, joyous experience of your life. But, don't say I didn't warn you.