by Corey Colombin
I fear our Daisy is in danger of having to forfeit her dog card. Where once she led a gritty existence on the streets fending for herself, she has since gotten entirely too comfortable in her role as pampered house dog. Looking at her today, it’s hard to imagine that before her second chance life began with us, she was a street creature, digging in trash cans for scraps and baring her teeth against any rival to her hard-won meal. She went from living on the edge to entering the realm of entitled Princess Sassy Pooch.
Princess Sassy Pooch entitles Daisy to the many amenities available to the one and only dog living with indulgent humans. That’s us. We’re the indulgent humans in this scenario. Amenities include (but are not limited to) a moderate (sometimes generous) portion of pan drippings on her kibble, daily belly rubs, gentle brushing sessions, choice of cushy sleeping spots, dibs on the warm patch in front of the fireplace, last bites rights, daily walks, and all the human attention a dog could want.
If Daisy now thinks of herself as a princess, we have no one to blame but ourselves. When we adopted her several years back, it was clear that she had spent some time fending for herself on the street. She was being treated for worms and recovering from recent surgery when we took her home. Her hair had been cut very short, probably due to filth and matting, and despite her eagerness to greet us and be friendly, she was extremely timid in her movements around the house. We took her in not as a pet but as a family member. From day one, she was invited to share the couch and the bed with us, and she took us up on both. She was very underweight. She’s a bit of an enigma because despite her obvious struggle, she didn’t have a lot of hangups about food. Animals who have experienced food insecurity can be gobblers. And another surprise is that when offered a dog cookie, she has a surprisingly gentle mouth. We provided a secure home for our girl. Not just shelter, but love and a sense of family.
Daisy’s life today looks nothing like the desperate life she led prior. We often say teasingly that she landed well. This is the kind of thing we say when we come upon her lying sprawled in front of the fireplace, warming her belly. So comfortable is she soaking up the luxury that she barely looks up when we enter the room. We do get a cat-like twitch of the tip of her tail when we say her name, though, especially if we are cooing and fussing over her.
As we look around at her overstuffed velvet dog bed in the corner, her elevated food and water bowls, her choice of sleeping lairs, and how our routine so clearly orbits around her comfort and wellbeing, we begin to wonder. Is she like one of those sadly domesticated wild animals that has been rendered so helpless that it could not fend for itself out in the wild?
Don’t get me wrong, she has proven herself to be prolific in hunting the errant rodent that crosses her path, and she has shown an unhealthy lack of fear in the face of a moose encounter. But that was how many months ago now? Does she even remember how to behave like a real dog? Not the 5th Avenue, New York kind of purse pet dog, but the not-so-distant-from-a-wolf kind of dog? I like to think that she could, indeed, hunt for sustenance and evade danger, should the need arise. But, let’s face it, our Daisy dog is the Zsa Zsa Gabor of dogs. She’s fluffy white with what looks to be permanent eyeliner. Her slightly curled tail gives her a jaunty air. She’s young and energetic and strangers naturally warm to her.
For one, since her incarnation as a beloved family dog, she doesn’t look feral enough to be a stray. And since she wears a collar with a heart-shaped tag engraved with her name and my phone number, I’m sure to get a call if ever she is on the loose.
So, yeah, if she encountered a rough pack of hardened street dogs, they’d snarl at her pampered pooch appearance on sight and discount her as a pretend dog. Truth be told, they’d probably demand she forfeit her dog card altogether. And it’s our fault. We rescued her from a shelter and welcomed her as a family member. We pampered her with regular meals and a soft place to land; a secure place to roam and explore; and unconditional love. You know, like how you treat family. Do we feel guilty? Nope. Not one little bit. This dog came into our lives when we were empty-nesters and available to pour all of our abundant love on her. And we are all reaping the benefits.
She probably can’t hold her own as a feral street dog. So what? She will never be that dog again. Never will she have to dig deep into her ancestral wolf genes to rely on a pack mentality to survive. Or, for that matter, rely solely on her ability to survive as a lone wolf. She’s a family pet with zero expectations on performance, other than snuggling and being reliably herself. The food bowl gets refilled twice a day, and she’s left with puzzles to work when we leave for the day. At end of day she is greeted with warmth and genuine love and kindness. If the price for that comfort is the forfeiture of her dog card, well, I think that’s fair. Worse things could happen to our Princess Sassy Pooch, our Daisy Dog.
Pull Quote:
“Daisy’s life today looks nothing like the desperate life she led prior.”
