Recently, I've heard people justifying doing nothing about the dreaded global warming because it is, they claim, a matter of survival of the fittest.
As if humans would know anything about that.
There is nothing, they say, as natural as ice ages and sudden shifts of temperature. Didn't that happen thousands of years ago. Wasn't that what killed off the dinosaurs or woolly mammoths? Should humans really worry if an animal goes extinct? Isn't that natural evolution?
Please tell me what is more unnatural than the life that humans have built? Living in deserts by bringing in contraptions that make the day time temperature a livable 65 degrees as opposed to 100 plus? Or how about all the chemicals they use to maintain their hair?
Think of all the hospitals that house the sick in attempts to save them from death. Think of all the money spent in attempts to circumvent nature. What is more natural than dying of a disease? Certainly there is nothing natural about the cure.
There is nothing natural about cows kept safe from wolves and other predators. There is nothing natural about some of the dogs, cats, horses and other domestic animals bred. Let a pug loose in the wild and see how well even a pack of pugs do in nature.
I'm not saying this is necessarily wrong, but by allowing the weak, the sick, the unfit to survive, there come certain responsibilities. Those range from knowing when to say good-bye to a sick relative or pet to figuring out what is required to correct the unbalance created by the unnatural choices made.
In truth, humans are a sentimental bunch who have rules against things like murder, stealing and duress--all very natural things in the animal world.
And yet, as I grow old, I, too, enjoy the unnatural cool created by AC and the comfort of furniture and bedding. When I am past my prime, I do not fear being left behind by my human friend in my forever home. There is something to be said about the gentle human heart that perhaps dogs can benefit, but global warming is not a problem that a dog can resolve.
So should you humans be tempted to speak of survival of the fittest, remember what that really means. In the world of animals it means that the weak, the sick and the old are left behind to die. There is no social welfare. It means that murder, assault and battery are how ownership of a territory is decided. It means that comfort is found with the group and that once a member is of not use to the group, that weak link is left behind. The group, the pack, the herd is everything.
Survival of the fittest is a kind of world that humans seem to be dead set against, at least for their own kind and their favored domesticated animal friends and acquaintances. And thus, the responsibility for fighting global warming is a human debt to be paid to the earth and the pack of animals of all species.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
A Eulogy for a Cat
Dear Gentle Readers,
It often puzzles me that some pet owners are so concerned about cats being able to live and roam because to keep them confined would be a cruelty. Imagine how frustrating it must be for a cat not to be able to wander freely.
Equally odd, is how the same courtesy isn't extended toward dogs so often. Of course, there are owners who do allow their dogs to roam and breed without a thought about tomorrow's puppies, piles of doggie doo in the neighbors' yards, terrorized cats, home/yard invasions resulting in dog fights, dead rabbits or guinea pigs or even dead or mauled children.
Yes, in the case of a cat, one only has to worry about spreading feline leukemia, cat scratch fever, arousing sleeping dogs at all hours of the day and night to bark their heads off, yowling cats breeding noisily in a serenade that no neighbor really loves and neighbors finding cat poo in their favorite flower beds. Yes, indeed, a roaming feline is nothing to worry about and not a trouble to one's neighbor as a dog would be.
Yet what I write about tonight is a eulogy for a lovely, well-fed gray cat. The cat was large and escaped becoming coyote appetizer. Instead the cat was hit by a car yesterday evening, sometime before 7 p.m. My secretary, on her way to pick up something, passed over the cat and, seeing its open eyes circled back.
The body was intact except for the strange twist of the spine that left the hind legs facing the opposite directions of its forepaws. Positioned just right in the number two lane, the cat was passed over by car after car. The body was not yet stiff and when my secretary was able to get a man living nearby to deposit the body in a box, it was still supple and warm. There was no collar; no owner shall be notified.
If you have never seen, or for us canines, smelled, an animal that has been hit by a car and squished messily over the road, you are lucky. It is a sad and doubtlessly painful way to die. For the tender-hearted person who might accidentally hit the animal, it is heartbreaking. Then one should curse the owner who indulgently allowed their pets to roam. Unless one can teach a cat to properly cross streets, do not let your cat roam outdoors. Perhaps you don't care about the kind of nuisance a loose cat is in any neighborhood, perhaps you don't care if your cat becomes a nibble for a coyote, but you will may never now how many auto accidents or near accidents your cat may cause and even more sadly, you may never know how and where your cat dies.
Is that love? I think not.
It often puzzles me that some pet owners are so concerned about cats being able to live and roam because to keep them confined would be a cruelty. Imagine how frustrating it must be for a cat not to be able to wander freely.
Equally odd, is how the same courtesy isn't extended toward dogs so often. Of course, there are owners who do allow their dogs to roam and breed without a thought about tomorrow's puppies, piles of doggie doo in the neighbors' yards, terrorized cats, home/yard invasions resulting in dog fights, dead rabbits or guinea pigs or even dead or mauled children.
Yes, in the case of a cat, one only has to worry about spreading feline leukemia, cat scratch fever, arousing sleeping dogs at all hours of the day and night to bark their heads off, yowling cats breeding noisily in a serenade that no neighbor really loves and neighbors finding cat poo in their favorite flower beds. Yes, indeed, a roaming feline is nothing to worry about and not a trouble to one's neighbor as a dog would be.
Yet what I write about tonight is a eulogy for a lovely, well-fed gray cat. The cat was large and escaped becoming coyote appetizer. Instead the cat was hit by a car yesterday evening, sometime before 7 p.m. My secretary, on her way to pick up something, passed over the cat and, seeing its open eyes circled back.
The body was intact except for the strange twist of the spine that left the hind legs facing the opposite directions of its forepaws. Positioned just right in the number two lane, the cat was passed over by car after car. The body was not yet stiff and when my secretary was able to get a man living nearby to deposit the body in a box, it was still supple and warm. There was no collar; no owner shall be notified.
If you have never seen, or for us canines, smelled, an animal that has been hit by a car and squished messily over the road, you are lucky. It is a sad and doubtlessly painful way to die. For the tender-hearted person who might accidentally hit the animal, it is heartbreaking. Then one should curse the owner who indulgently allowed their pets to roam. Unless one can teach a cat to properly cross streets, do not let your cat roam outdoors. Perhaps you don't care about the kind of nuisance a loose cat is in any neighborhood, perhaps you don't care if your cat becomes a nibble for a coyote, but you will may never now how many auto accidents or near accidents your cat may cause and even more sadly, you may never know how and where your cat dies.
Is that love? I think not.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Collies in Need
Sometimes Lassie can't come home or even wants to go home because home is not a pleasant place.
While not as bad or extensive as the Montana collie case, these two cases in different areas of the US, call for someone who might by chance want a collie, want to help a collie or want to help those already helping collies.
The 2003 Montana collie case involved 170 dogs, mostly collies, owned by a breeder who was transporting them from Alaska to Arizona under questionable conditions.
These two current cases resulted from two separate 2007 animal seizures. In one case, a breeder by the last name of Seeley had 19 collies confiscated--nine of which still need homes. They are held at the SPCA of Upstate NY in Queensbury. They were and apparently are still mainly confined to crates and cages.
Twenty collies and three dachschunds were originally seized on 17 October 2007 from the home of John and Jane Seeley. They are referred to as the Seeley collies. Adopters can count on the support of AWCA or the American Working Collie Association.
The other case, according to the Utah Collies Rescue Website, will be nationally televised on Animal Planet as a Petfinder TV show. This involves about 51 collies seized from Elaine Kmiec from Tomball, Texas. Ten of these were to be adopted out by Animal Planet to have their stories aired in 2008. The rest were turned over to Houston Collie Rescue.
Houston Collie Rescue called out for help and the following rescues took some dogs:
Northern California Collie Rescue
Pueblo Collie and Sheltie Rescue
Southwest Collie Rescue
Utah Collies Rescue
I, too, was once a collie rescued by a breed rescue (In my case, Southland Collie Rescue).That is another story and one that, unfortunately, is repeated every day all over the world.
While not as bad or extensive as the Montana collie case, these two cases in different areas of the US, call for someone who might by chance want a collie, want to help a collie or want to help those already helping collies.
The 2003 Montana collie case involved 170 dogs, mostly collies, owned by a breeder who was transporting them from Alaska to Arizona under questionable conditions.
These two current cases resulted from two separate 2007 animal seizures. In one case, a breeder by the last name of Seeley had 19 collies confiscated--nine of which still need homes. They are held at the SPCA of Upstate NY in Queensbury. They were and apparently are still mainly confined to crates and cages.
Twenty collies and three dachschunds were originally seized on 17 October 2007 from the home of John and Jane Seeley. They are referred to as the Seeley collies. Adopters can count on the support of AWCA or the American Working Collie Association.
The other case, according to the Utah Collies Rescue Website, will be nationally televised on Animal Planet as a Petfinder TV show. This involves about 51 collies seized from Elaine Kmiec from Tomball, Texas. Ten of these were to be adopted out by Animal Planet to have their stories aired in 2008. The rest were turned over to Houston Collie Rescue.
Houston Collie Rescue called out for help and the following rescues took some dogs:
Northern California Collie Rescue
Pueblo Collie and Sheltie Rescue
Southwest Collie Rescue
Utah Collies Rescue
I, too, was once a collie rescued by a breed rescue (In my case, Southland Collie Rescue).That is another story and one that, unfortunately, is repeated every day all over the world.
MOVIE REVIEW: Into the Wild
Why do humans, mostly young men, feel the so-called call of the wild? I am almost certain that when my distant cousin, the Chihuahua, hears the call of the wild, it is a coyote issuing an invitation for dinner. Chihuahua steak tartare is, along with Siamese cat sashimi, high on the list of desirable appetizers for the urban coyote.
These men, like Christopher McCandless and Timothy Treadwell--the most famous examples of recent years, seem influenced heavily by the writerJack London who wrote a book entitled, "The Call of the Wild" as well as "White Fang." As my gentle readers well know, I much prefer the work of Albert Payson Terhune and even Eric Knight.
London's novel was about a dog named Buck who leaves a pampered life for servitude as a sled dog in the Yukon during the gold rush of the 19th century. The book was published in 1903 and followed up by the 1906 "White Fang." The protagonist is a dog--half St. Bernard and half collie. I would say, this isn't the best combination. Buck, luckily, isn't a lap dog and becomes the alpha of a pack.
"White Fang" is also about a dog, this one part wolf, who is something of an outcast although dogs are generally more accepting than people. He eventually finds his pack--a kind master who takes him back.
Yet here is the main point. Dogs understand that dogs need other dogs, or if that's not possible, a good human will do. The emphasis, of course, is on the good part.
A lone dog is doomed. He or she will not survive. I am sure that the Chihuahua knows this very clearly and that is why my cousin shivers when left alone. Even the most alpha Chihuahua knows one doesn't want a pack of Chihuahuas to survive should one be lost in the wild. He must also fear that dog eat dog mentality because only the most indulgent pack would accept him for what use can this little cousin possibly be?
A lone dog, a lone coyote or a lone wolf is a failure in the grand scheme of things. This canine howls because he or she is lonely. This loner might be too stupid to deal with pack politics, too weak to be of use, too old to keep up with the pack or too young and inexperienced to form and lead a pack of his or her own.
This is why I find it so puzzling as to why men would want to go alone "Into the Wild." Timothy Treadwell liked to foster the mystique of loneliness, but in reality he often had company and his last companion died with him. McCandless wandered about, joining and leaving packs. There's something heartbreaking about this lost soul as played by Emile Hirsch. Unlike a dog pack, his father hasn't driven him off. Other packs make the appropriate signs, offering him a place within their pack and as agreeable as he finds these people, he does not accept.
I would guess that I'd have a better chance than a Chihuahua or Pug at surviving in the wild, I could join a pack and hunt down something to eat instead of having my loving human friend serve me breakfast in a bowl. I could eat raw meat and chew on rotted meat if I had to do so. Yet I do not really treasure the idea of suddenly going as far north as my legs could take me and as far away from civilization as possible. I've heard stories that the Native Alaskans ate fat and their dogs were regularly fed lard or fat--something that would make the painfully thin chic of Beverly Hills shiver in both disgust and secret lust and the modern urban human and dog doctors wrinkle their brows thinking of clogged arteries. Without central heating (and air conditioning) one tends to burn up a tremendous amount of calories. One gathers that McCandless, in his limited research, didn't consider this. Nor did he seem to have considered how the Native Alaskans and current occupants survived. He didn't even consider the common practice of humans--making emergency arrangements so that someone might check in on him.
As the director Sean Penn shows us a pack of wolves taking advantage of his spoiled moose meat, London's "The Call of the Wild" comes to mind and for a dog as well as a dog lover, the complete insanity of a human trying to survive alone in a climate so hostile to normal survival should be clear. Jack London's short story, "To Build a Fire" should have indicated that anything can happen and it doesn't have to be during 50 degree below zero for a human to need another soul. Much later in 2003 (McCandless died in 1992), a lone hiker named Aron Ralston would be forced to amputate his arm when it became trapped under a boulder. He was hiking alone and without having informed anyone of his plans--two things one should always do if one truly wants to return to one's pack. There have been cases of coyotes and wolves and even dogs, chewing off their legs when trapped and yet, they always want to return to their pack.
If given the choice, the Chihuahua or the Scottish Collie or even the common mixed blood cur, would gladly find comfort on a warm bed with company. Hirsch has the charm of a young puppy, one aged about 15-months in dog years or perhaps 16 years in human years. He's a pup at the age where he adventurous enough to wander outside the boundaries of his pack and yet not mature enough to accept responsibility. Perhaps that bit of rebelliousness when he refuses his father's offer of a car suggests 18-months in dog years and 17-18 in human years. Yet by human age, McCandless was older. He had recently graduated from college, making him in his early twenties and 24 when he died. Humans oddly may never grow out of their puppyhood and McCandless, died for his lack of judgment.
One may not be the human equivalent of the Chihuahua, one might be the equivalent to a short-haired hunting dog of some sort or a sleek sight-hound meant for warm-weather life. Rare is the human who can survive low temperatures without a good coat and not the kind one grows oneself. Yet even the Labrador and the Saluki want to join a pack. Dogs and humans are social animals and when they hear the call of the wild, they hope it is an invitation to run with a group of undomesticated cousins or domestic dogs uneducated in the ways of humankind and the luxuries of that life. They do not mean to wander out into the night to live and survive alone. From a dog's perspective, I would fault Penn's movie in this respect. There is nothing heroic about unwisely leaping into the wild and dying because one was unprepared. When humans make heroes out of fools, it can only encourage other romantic humans to be even more foolhardy as a way of gaining fame. After all, they didn't make "Grizzly Man" and "Into the Wild" because these men survived, but because these men died in ways that could have prevented had they exercised some human common sense.
I suppose that if one can't be Jack London or Jon Krakauer (who wrote the book on which the movie is based) or Sean Penn and become famous for one's own writing or work, one can become posthumously famous through the good work of famous people who write or make movies. As a dog, I find this human striving for fame quite puzzling.
These men, like Christopher McCandless and Timothy Treadwell--the most famous examples of recent years, seem influenced heavily by the writerJack London who wrote a book entitled, "The Call of the Wild" as well as "White Fang." As my gentle readers well know, I much prefer the work of Albert Payson Terhune and even Eric Knight.
London's novel was about a dog named Buck who leaves a pampered life for servitude as a sled dog in the Yukon during the gold rush of the 19th century. The book was published in 1903 and followed up by the 1906 "White Fang." The protagonist is a dog--half St. Bernard and half collie. I would say, this isn't the best combination. Buck, luckily, isn't a lap dog and becomes the alpha of a pack.
"White Fang" is also about a dog, this one part wolf, who is something of an outcast although dogs are generally more accepting than people. He eventually finds his pack--a kind master who takes him back.
Yet here is the main point. Dogs understand that dogs need other dogs, or if that's not possible, a good human will do. The emphasis, of course, is on the good part.
A lone dog is doomed. He or she will not survive. I am sure that the Chihuahua knows this very clearly and that is why my cousin shivers when left alone. Even the most alpha Chihuahua knows one doesn't want a pack of Chihuahuas to survive should one be lost in the wild. He must also fear that dog eat dog mentality because only the most indulgent pack would accept him for what use can this little cousin possibly be?
A lone dog, a lone coyote or a lone wolf is a failure in the grand scheme of things. This canine howls because he or she is lonely. This loner might be too stupid to deal with pack politics, too weak to be of use, too old to keep up with the pack or too young and inexperienced to form and lead a pack of his or her own.
This is why I find it so puzzling as to why men would want to go alone "Into the Wild." Timothy Treadwell liked to foster the mystique of loneliness, but in reality he often had company and his last companion died with him. McCandless wandered about, joining and leaving packs. There's something heartbreaking about this lost soul as played by Emile Hirsch. Unlike a dog pack, his father hasn't driven him off. Other packs make the appropriate signs, offering him a place within their pack and as agreeable as he finds these people, he does not accept.
I would guess that I'd have a better chance than a Chihuahua or Pug at surviving in the wild, I could join a pack and hunt down something to eat instead of having my loving human friend serve me breakfast in a bowl. I could eat raw meat and chew on rotted meat if I had to do so. Yet I do not really treasure the idea of suddenly going as far north as my legs could take me and as far away from civilization as possible. I've heard stories that the Native Alaskans ate fat and their dogs were regularly fed lard or fat--something that would make the painfully thin chic of Beverly Hills shiver in both disgust and secret lust and the modern urban human and dog doctors wrinkle their brows thinking of clogged arteries. Without central heating (and air conditioning) one tends to burn up a tremendous amount of calories. One gathers that McCandless, in his limited research, didn't consider this. Nor did he seem to have considered how the Native Alaskans and current occupants survived. He didn't even consider the common practice of humans--making emergency arrangements so that someone might check in on him.
As the director Sean Penn shows us a pack of wolves taking advantage of his spoiled moose meat, London's "The Call of the Wild" comes to mind and for a dog as well as a dog lover, the complete insanity of a human trying to survive alone in a climate so hostile to normal survival should be clear. Jack London's short story, "To Build a Fire" should have indicated that anything can happen and it doesn't have to be during 50 degree below zero for a human to need another soul. Much later in 2003 (McCandless died in 1992), a lone hiker named Aron Ralston would be forced to amputate his arm when it became trapped under a boulder. He was hiking alone and without having informed anyone of his plans--two things one should always do if one truly wants to return to one's pack. There have been cases of coyotes and wolves and even dogs, chewing off their legs when trapped and yet, they always want to return to their pack.
If given the choice, the Chihuahua or the Scottish Collie or even the common mixed blood cur, would gladly find comfort on a warm bed with company. Hirsch has the charm of a young puppy, one aged about 15-months in dog years or perhaps 16 years in human years. He's a pup at the age where he adventurous enough to wander outside the boundaries of his pack and yet not mature enough to accept responsibility. Perhaps that bit of rebelliousness when he refuses his father's offer of a car suggests 18-months in dog years and 17-18 in human years. Yet by human age, McCandless was older. He had recently graduated from college, making him in his early twenties and 24 when he died. Humans oddly may never grow out of their puppyhood and McCandless, died for his lack of judgment.
One may not be the human equivalent of the Chihuahua, one might be the equivalent to a short-haired hunting dog of some sort or a sleek sight-hound meant for warm-weather life. Rare is the human who can survive low temperatures without a good coat and not the kind one grows oneself. Yet even the Labrador and the Saluki want to join a pack. Dogs and humans are social animals and when they hear the call of the wild, they hope it is an invitation to run with a group of undomesticated cousins or domestic dogs uneducated in the ways of humankind and the luxuries of that life. They do not mean to wander out into the night to live and survive alone. From a dog's perspective, I would fault Penn's movie in this respect. There is nothing heroic about unwisely leaping into the wild and dying because one was unprepared. When humans make heroes out of fools, it can only encourage other romantic humans to be even more foolhardy as a way of gaining fame. After all, they didn't make "Grizzly Man" and "Into the Wild" because these men survived, but because these men died in ways that could have prevented had they exercised some human common sense.
I suppose that if one can't be Jack London or Jon Krakauer (who wrote the book on which the movie is based) or Sean Penn and become famous for one's own writing or work, one can become posthumously famous through the good work of famous people who write or make movies. As a dog, I find this human striving for fame quite puzzling.
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