Shelter Dog

Much of the function of our house revolves around our animals.  We are not really one of those families that have separate furniture for their pets, monogrammed bowls or gourmet food, but we take our responsibilities as pet owners seriously and make sure that when we are not at home – day trips, vacations, etc. --  that they are still taken care of.

Both of our dogs are from the local animal shelter.  The first one we got was for my daughter.  Well, you know – the pet you get FOR your kid, then it ends up being YOUR pet…  Anyway, it didn’t start out that way.  Originally, my husband, son and I went to get what we wanted – a big dog, a real dog.  This was not what my daughter wanted, which was something purse-size and cute, so she chose not to attend the selection of our newest family member.

If you have ever been to an animal shelter you know the routine.  All of the pets are irresistible (except, I shall note, the reptiles, which I will always maintain need to be in the wild), and they all have cute names, sad faces and touch every sensitive fiber of your soul.  Yes, I always want to take them all, but then 1) You remember the food/poop volume issue, and 2) You lay your eyes on “the one” and that’s it.

For me, it was a very tiny dog, which surprised me more than anyone since we’d gone there to get a big, dopey one.  But there he was with some ridiculous name I cannot remember, skin and bones, wagging tail and those love-filled eyes.  I was smitten.

When I showed the “chosen one” to my husband and son they initially thought I was kidding.  The cats at the shelter were bigger!  Yes, I could see that, but this little guy spoke to me, and I wanted to bring him home to my shelter and fatten him up and make him a part of our family.  And so we did.

So, shelter dog, now named Jack, or usually Jack-Jack, is a happy dog at our house now.  He’s a family member and gets on our emergency preparedness checklist just like everyone else.  He has a crate, a copy of his license and shots, a blanket, a handful of chew sticks and some food and water.  From the animal shelter to my shelter, he will be protected.  Come what may.

Expectations

We all have them.  We expect certain things in certain situations.  Some are required by law, such as expecting people to stop at stop signs, while others are by common courtesy, like holding a door open for the person behind you.  Sometimes it is more hopeful, such as expecting chocolate, especially the good stuff, for Valentine’s Day, or the routine expectation of my paycheck automatically depositing into my checking account every month.  Nevertheless, we live in a world of constant expectations in our normal day to day activities.  But what happens when the day is not so normal?

What got me thinking about this was a recent conversation with my sister.  While on the phone with her, her two small-pony-sized dogs started barking.  Probably at someone with the audacity of walking past her house.  At any rate, these two can create quite the racket, which makes it nearly impossible for someone to hear on the other end of the telephone.  Being a devout Cesar Millan devote’, I handle those situations by excusing myself from the conversation, shishing my dogs, along with a stern stare and upright body posture, until they stop, which is surprisingly (always for me, anyway) pretty quick.  My sister, on the other hand, simply started talking to her two housemates.  “Boys, boys, keep quiet, please.  No, I said be quiet.  Be quiet, please.”  To no one’s surprise, except, apparently, my sister, the dogs continued to bark and tell that nasty trespasser to get away from the house until he was out of sight.  Patiently, I waited on the other end until all the ruckus and polite pleading ended and my sister continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Did she really think that: 1) The dogs knew English and 2) Saying “please” would matter? I am quite certain that she could have “sworn like a sailor” (a saying my great Aunt would say, although there is absolutely no proof that sailors swear, nor do so remarkably...), or spoken Chinese and the dogs would have responded the same way.  They did what they wanted to do, which was to bark until they were done barking.

So, what should we expect in times of crisis?  Do we expect an orderly response, or raging chaos?  Do we expect that leaders among us will step up and take charge and organize us to do what needs to be done?  It’s hard to tell when daily life continues to plod on and the big challenges, like giant earthquakes, floods, fires, or terrorists are just threats listed in planning documents.  But we do have expectations.  Will what we expect really happen?

This is the crux of all preparedness stuff that we do.  We plan and prepare so that what we experience will align with our expectations when something really goes south.  At least that is what I hope all my work is for.  Expecting the worse, planning for it, then expecting that the crisis is something you can get through.

And maybe I will bounce this idea off my dog.  Politely, of course.  With luck, maybe he will have a pearl of wisdom to share.  That’s my expectation, anyway.