They Call Me Man’s Best Friend
WELL, many call me that. I hope my family agrees. I adopted this family when I was a puppy only six weeks old. And now, by their own admission, they would be at a loss to know what to do without me—a sentiment I heartily agree with.
And why not? We dogs are loyal to our adopted family to the end. Man cannot say that. We never come home drunk, never get mad, never hold a grudge, and even though you may beat us (which you should never do), a pat on the head will cause our tail to wag and let you know that all is well between us. We are usually the first to greet you when you come home. If you live on a busy street, we can pick out the sound of your car from all the others passing by. My adopted family cannot understand this, but it’s easy for me. Neither can they comprehend my ability to pick out their scent from all other people who may have walked by and follow it.
However, my life is not all roses. One thing that confuses me is when I’m punished. If, for example, the door of the house is accidentally left open and I run out, when it’s discovered that I’m gone I’m angrily called back. Then when I come back I’m punished! Why was I punished for coming back? Once I jumped on the table and ate an entire package of sandwich meat. To put it mildly, my family was upset with me. “You know better than that!” they scolded. No, I didn’t, but I do now. I understand now that the table is out of bounds for me. However, if they had waited an hour to scold me, I wouldn’t have known why.
In my house I make no distinction in age. My devotion and loyalty are extended to all family members, young or old, strong or feeble. This makes me valuable, according to a doctor of veterinary medicine. He said: “The greatest problems confronting the elderly aren’t physical ailments, but the loneliness and rejection they experience. By providing love and companionship, animal pets (including dogs) give purpose and meaning at a time when the elderly often are alienated from society.” A recent Better Homes and Gardens magazine said: “Pets help treat the emotionally disturbed; motivate the physically ill, the handicapped, and the disabled; and revitalize the lonely and elderly.”
We can also by our companionship help terminally ill cancer victims stay active longer and we can help increase the life expectancy of heart-disease victims. By means of the curative effects that our companionship brings, we are indeed leaving our mark in homes for the aged, hospitals, prisons, and schools. We have reduced the suicide rate to practically zero among inmates in some institutions for the criminally insane. Our being there gives their life an added dimension—a devoted life in their midst to care for. It is a proved fact that our presence as pets can reduce the blood pressure and anxiety levels in both children and adults.
But before you run out and buy a dog to cure all your ailments, I must warn you that we’re not miracle workers. I know of no dog that has been named “Penicillin”—though the name does have a nice sound as it rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? But if you are lonely and need cheering up, we can be the shot in the arm that will bring you out of your depression.
Lastly, since I am barking about our virtues, I must remind you of the frequent heroics of dogs—how we chew our way through doors to warn our masters of fire in the house, how we pull children from burning buildings, how we race home to get the father of a child lost in the forest, how we jump into a lake to save a drowning child. That is the stuff that movies are made of; nevertheless it’s true of us. There are no coward dogs in a smoke-filled room. We want to get you out and save your life.
Of course, we may lose our life trying. But we dogs are like that.