Off My Noodle

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Canine Crazy

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Back in the days when gas was cheap and people drank tap water without fear, dogs might have grumbled, like Rodney Dangerfield, that they didn’t get any respect. They slept in dog beds on the floor, waited for someone to remember to toss them a bone now and then, and had names such as Fido or Pizza. (I once knew a dog named Pizza, in case you doubt me.) 

Since then, things have swung wildly in the dogs’ direction. Today’s tail-waggers are named Zelda, Brian, and Charlene, and they have been upgraded to sleeping in their owners’ beds. Some go to therapy to help them with their “issues,” which may or may not include being named Zelda or Brian and having to wear miniature Burberry trench coats and Prada sunglasses. Oh, I forgot: Dog’s don’t have owners anymore,—the politically correct term is “human companion.” Excuse me.

I should know: I’m the human companion to Ken, a six-year-old beagle/lab mix. His human name is embarrassing, but when we adopted him as a pup he was equipped with both his shots and his all-American guy moniker. The kids fought endlessly over their nominations for the nom de pooch, and since no kid had saved enough allowance to earn the naming rights to our pet, I let Ken remain Ken. Meanwhile, he had been busy endearing himself to the family by chewing up the couch, blissfully ignorant of the drama surrounding his name.
   
All this comes to mind because Friday, June 26 is the 11th annual Take Your Dog To Work Day® (TYDTWD). Sponsors hope the event will “raise awareness of the importance of the human-animal bond.” This strikes me as a little redundant in a society that has seen such excesses as “bark mitzvahs,” “barkeries” featuring gourmet “pet"it- fours and doggy day spas.

I am way ahead of this trend, because I take Ken to work with me every single day, and I can assure you that Ken gets the better end of this deal, too. For example, even when he’s not napping on the bed in my home office, and I read some funny column drafts to him to test audience reaction, he falls asleep again, often during what is intended as a big laugh line. His snores disrupt my creative thinking process and worse, make me want to tuck myself under the covers, too. Finally, he also has tried to bite delivery persons of color, but after taking him to doggie sensitivity training he has become more tolerant. And they say dogs are color-blind! 

I am relieved not to have to prove my “canine companion” chops by bringing Ken to a real office on TYDTWD, because he would get one or both of us fired immediately. He would lift his leg on an expensive potted plant, missing the plant but getting the carpet instead; sniff up everybody in sight, lingering a little too long on the boss’ pant leg; and nose through unattended briefcases, happily stealing sandwiches from deep inside. He would snort and snore during meetings, and would beg for muffins by resting his snout on the lap of anyone trying to eat one. This might be considered “workplace muffin harassment.”
But let she who is without sin in falling for absurd dog-mania cast the first Milk-Bone. I recently realized that I take Ken for professional grooming more often than I take myself, and that is just wrong, somehow. When I take him for walks, neighbors cross the street, not to say hello to me, but to gush over my shedding, begging, couch-destroying hound. I, the human companion, remain a nameless appendage to the pooch.

I’m not complaining, though. Ken has provided vastly amusing material for several columns, and even a quote on a Starbucks cup. (The funny thing about that is, Ken doesn’t even drink coffee.) No human subject ever brought me such awesome, yet momentary publicity.
Sure, people have become a little dog-crazy, but I understand. There is so little loyalty in today’s world, either from employers to long-time employees, from baseball players to their home teams, heck, even from spouses to their mates. But dogs are utterly, refreshingly predictable in their loyalty. They are faithful and will love you and forgive you—even if you make them wear a Burberry rain slicker. Maybe there’s a lesson for us somewhere in all that.

 

Posted by judy @ 07:15 PM •