I had the combined opportunity and misfortune to stop by the Bonnyville SPCA this week, and was given a tour of the dog kennels.
I call it an opportunity because I got to pet the dogs and there is very little in my life that makes me as happy as getting to spend some quality time letting dogs jump on me and lick my face, even if it does slime my glasses with smudges of dog drool.
I also call it a misfortune because, of course, at the moment, I am dog-less.
Until this last year, I've had a dog ever since I was in Grade 2, when my mother and father somehow got tricked into believing the tiny, big-eyed puppy in the pet store window would stay small.
He was a Labrador crossed with a German Shepherd, for the record. He didn't stay small. We named him Buddy.
Even though he grew as big as a horse, he thought he was cat-sized, probably because his reluctant best friend was our overweight cat named Samantha. He sat on the couch with all four legs on the floor, his tail regularly cleared the coffee table of whatever we had left there, and he could stand at the dining room table and lick our plates clean if we happened to look away.
Pet stores thrive on that sort of ignorance. They bet on the fact the helpless customers wandering by won't be able to resist the puppy dog eyes peering at them from inside their tiny cages. The truth is most dogs in pet stores come from puppy mills, where their mothers are kept in inhumane conditions, forced to breed litters over and over again, because dogs are not pets, they're livestock.
It's not hard to find reports online of rescue agencies raiding puppy mills and finding dozens of unsocialized, feral, and terrified breeder dogs kept in tiny cages, without veterinary care, neglected at best, abused at worst. Most of them are killed or abandoned once they are no longer reliable breeders, or if they outlive their usefulness.
By purchasing dogs from pet stores that use puppy mills as suppliers, naive customers are supporting the industry. It isn't healthy for the dogs, or for the shelters where a lot of dogs end up, after their owners realize the dogs don't stay puppies forever, or are more work than they had thought, or when the puppies just outlive their novelty. The puppies suffer from illnesses as a result of inbreeding.
Irresponsible pet ownership and medical expenses are why shelters are so overcrowded.
I've got a friend whose little Shih Tzu, purchased at a pet store, needs medication every day to keep his seizures under control. The dog ends up at the vet every few months with another mysterious ailment. He's one of the lucky pet store puppies because his owner is willing to go thousands of dollars into debt to keep him.
I met my best friend, Elmo, a little, friendly, anxious, and intelligent American Eskimo – Poodle cross when I was 12. He was my little brother's birthday present, but he chose me to be his best friend instead, which was probably a good decision. It's not recommended to get a child a pet for a gift, either, because they frequently lose interest.
It took my brother about a month to lose interest, but by that point, I'd already taught Elmo to sit, lay down, dance, and shake paws, so he didn't mind becoming my dog overly much.
Elmo saved my life, in more ways than one. Living in a military family and moving every three years is easier when you get to bring your best friend with you.
The thing about dogs, though, is you get to be friends with them and keep them and walk them and explore with them and love them and no matter how much you do, they still don't live as long as people do.
When Elmo was 12, he tore a ligament in his leg that would not heal. Surgery probably wouldn't have fixed it either. He learned to walk again anyway, though he was slower and limped pretty heavily. It got easier after a while, though.
A year later, because of the added strain, the ligament in his other back leg tore. It was tough then, because he couldn't walk anymore, but I spent weeks helping him and teaching him how. He was slower, but he was still happy, and it didn't hurt. He couldn't play soccer anymore, or chase balls, or go for long walks, but he was happy.
He was 14 when he fell down the stairs and the pain in his hips was too bad because of the limp and he didn't get up again.
It has been a year and a half since then, and when I go to my parents' house in Wainwright, I still look for him sometimes before remembering he isn't there.
The Bonnyville SPCA is at 110 per cent capacity, and a lot of the dogs there are looking for new homes because they were found as strays and their owners didn't come to collect them, even when the dogs' microchips were scanned and their owners contacted. Apparently they didn't want them anymore. Fewer dogs are adopted in the summer.
I miss my dog more than I can ever properly explain, and I'll never understand that mentality, where a dog is a liability and not part of the family. If I could, I'd give every one of those homeless dogs a home, but dog-friendly housing isn't exactly at a premium in Bonnyville.
There are so many amazing dogs at the Bonnyville SPCA just looking for another chance to find a home. If you're lucky enough to live in a place where dogs are allowed, maybe you should think about stopping by to check them out yourself.
Judging from my reception, they'll be glad to see you. I've never seen tails wag so fast.
