The Dog Days of Summer

Friday, August 31, 2007

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

The Dog Days of Summer

By J’AMY PACHECO

Dog Days. To many people, the term describes the hottest days of summer. One definition describes them as the unhealthiest days of the year. I don’t know if that’s true, but they sure have been for the dogs I’ve come into contact with lately.

It started two weeks ago, when we spent the weekend with family members who recently adopted a puppy. Before it even arrived, my daughter and her grandmother had spent a day shopping for the dog, coming home with an enormous house, a plush bed, coordinating leashes and collars for casual and formal occasions, and enough toys to satisfy a pack of Saint Bernards.

Shortly after the puppy arrived, we stayed overnight at Grandma’s, where the better part of the visit was spent trying to keep the little Doberman from teething on our shoes, our feet, our legs, our…well, you get the picture.

In spite of the teeth, in two short days, my daughter fell in love with little Bacall. She could hardly wait for a follow-up visit, which finally came two weeks ago.

Neither of us could believe how much the dog had already changed. She was bigger, and had definitely lost a lot of her exuberance. She never even nipped at my daughter’s hot pink Crocs.

We soon learned this was because the dog wasn’t well. She’d been boarded for a few days, and had come back with what is best described as “tummy trouble.” A vet had been consulted, and a follow-up visit scheduled. But when her inability to hang onto any type of nutrition continued overnight, the decision was made to take her to the animal hospital.

Good thing, because it turned out the dog needed emergency surgery to correct an internal injury. Had there been any more of a delay, the puppy likely would not have survived. That would have been devastating.

I’m not a dog person. I don’t dislike them; I just don’t want one. While I love petting my friend’s loveable Chihuahua, I’ve never had the urge to bring her home to poop in my yard.

I had a dog once, but I only got it because it had belonged to a beloved relative who could not longer care for it, and the dog was going to be put to sleep. I couldn’t bear that, so my husband and I brought “Scotty” home and loved him until the day he died. No dog could take his place, and none has.

My daughter desperately wants a dog. Unfortunately, our lifestyle is such that a dog just wouldn’t be happy here. But that doesn’t stop her from perusing Web sites like Petfinder.com and reporting on the candidates she finds there. She really, really loves dogs.

I hesitated to even tell my tenderhearted little girl that Bacall needed surgery, which was described as “risky.” But the dog passed the critical period and although there will be some lifelong effects, she’ll be okay. I wish the same could be said of the next two dogs I encountered.

Several days ago, I had driven a few blocks from my home when I heard my daughter gasp from the backseat. In the road ahead, half in the traffic lanes, lay a good-sized tan dog. I almost didn’t see it because my attention was focused on a big black dog on the curb, poised to dart into traffic. I stopped my car.

My daughter and I watched with dismay as the black dog crossed to the tan dog and nudged it before running back to the side of the road. Other cars carefully skirted the dog in the traffic lanes while I called Animal Control.

“Can’t we help it?” my daughter sobbed from the back seat. I know next to nothing about dogs, but I do know better than to endanger my child by putting a strange, big dog or a wounded animal in the car with her. We waited for a few minutes, but afraid my lane blocking was going to cause an accident, I reluctantly drove on.

Less than 10 minutes later, we went back. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but my daughter insisted we at least check on the dogs. To my disbelief, both were gone. We hoped Animal Control had arrived quickly and had been able to hurry the injured dog to the hospital.

Hours later, I called to see if I could learn the dogs’ fate. As I feared, the tan dog was dead and the officer was unable to locate the black dog, which is likely wandering, alone and sad, in my desert neighborhood.

While I’m not anxious to see the end of summer and a return to our school day routine, it will be a relief to see the end of these “dog days.”

Although I have to admit I’m now dreading the rainy season, lest the forecast call for the proverbial “cats and dogs…”