There is a deadly disease stalking your dog, a hideous, stealthy
thing just waiting its chance to steal your beloved friend. It
is not a new disease, or one which there are inoculations. The
disease is called trust.
You knew before you ever took your puppy home that it could not
be trusted. The breeder who provided you with this precious animal
warned you, drummed it into your head. Puppies steal off counters,
destroy anything expensive, chase cats, take forever to house
train, and must never be allowed off lead!
When the big day finally arrived, heeding the sage advice of the
breeder you escorted your puppy to his new home, properly collared
and tagged, the lead held tightly in your hand.
At home the house was "puppy-proofed." Everything of
value was stored in the spare bedroom, garbage stowed on top of
the refrigerator, cats separated, and a gate placed across the
door to the living room to keep at least part of the house puddle
free. All windows and doors had been properly secured, and signs
placed in all strategic points reminding all to "Close The
Door!"
Soon it becomes second nature to make sure the door closes 9/10
of a second after it was opened and that it really latched. "Don't
let the dog out" is your second most verbalized expression.
(The first is "No!") You worry and fuss constantly,
terrified that your darling will get out and disaster will surely
follow. Your friends comment about who you love most, your family
or the dog. You know that to relax your vigil for a moment might
lose him to you forever.
And so the weeks and months pass, with your puppy becoming more
civilized every day, and the seeds of trust are planted. It seems
that each new day brings less destruction, less breakage. Almost
before you know it your gangly, slurpy puppy has turned into an
elegant, dignified friend.
Now that he is a more reliable, sedate companion, you take him
more places. No longer does he chew the steering wheel when left
in the car. And darned if that cake wasn't still on the counter
this morning. And, oh yes, wasn't that the cat he was sleeping
with so cozily on your pillow last night?
At this point you are beginning to become infected , the disease
is spreading its roots deep into your mind.
And then one of your friends suggest obedience. You shake your
head and remind her that your dog might run away if allowed off
lead, but you are reassured when she promises the events are held
in a fenced area. And, wonder of wonders, he did not run away,
but came every time you called him.
All winter long you go to weekly obedience classes. And, after
a time you even let him run loose from the car into the house
when you get home. Why not, he always runs straight to the door,
dancing a frenzy of joy and waits to be let in. And, remember
he comes every time he is called. You know he is the exception
that proves the rule. (And sometimes late at night, you even let
him slip out the front door to go potty and then right back in.)
At this point the disease has taken hold, waiting only for the
right time and place to rear its ugly head.
Years pass - it is hard to remember why you ever worried so much
when he was a puppy. He would never think of running out the door
left open while you bring in the packages from the car. It would
be beneath his dignity to jump out the window of the car while
you run into the convenience store. And when you take him for
those wonderful long walks at dawn, it only takes one whistle
to send him racing back to you in a burst of speed when the walk
comes too close to the highway. (He still gets in the garbage,
but nobody is perfect!)
This is the time the disease has waited for so patiently. Sometimes
it only has to wait a year or two, but often it takes much longer.
He spies the neighbour dog across the street, and suddenly forgets
everything he ever knew about not slipping outdoors, jumping out
windows or coming when called due to traffic. Perhaps it was only
a paper fluttering in the breeze, or even just the sheer joy of
running
Stopped in an instant. Stilled forever -- Your heart is broken
at the sight of his still beautiful body.
The disease is trust. The final outcome, hit by a car.
Every morning my dog Shan bounced around off lead exploring. Every
morning for seven years he came back when he was called. He was
perfectly obedient, perfectly trustworthy. He died fourteen hours
after being hit by a car. Please do not risk your friend and your
heart. Save the trust for things that do not matter.
Please read this every year on your puppy's birthday, lest we
forget.