“Love me, love my dog.” – Latin Proverb
“When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me.”- Montaigne
I’m crazy about pets, and this season I’m celebrating all of the joy and laughter they give me.
I come by it honestly.
If cats and dogs could have spoken English, sipped tea, and played rummy, they would have been conversing with my family night and day, not just curling up next to us on the sofa, lounging on the recliner, or snuggling under the covers with us as we slept. They would have been driving the car, calling the relatives, and going to the movies. They would have been pawing through books in the library, and helping us piece together the giant family jigsaw puzzles in the “rec” room. They would have cleared the table, chatted with my Dad while he tackled the laundry, and discussed “Saturday Night at the Fights” over dinner on Sunday.
My point is that four-legged companions have been a beloved part of my daily life as far back as I can remember. The Chapmans have a historically long and widespread lineage of animal lovers, and my father and his father never knew a “stranger” of the furry variety. This resulted in a lifetime of stray and “rescue” creatures coming into our home to be fed, doctored, warmed-up, and given tender loving care – always. We rarely had just one at a time; usually two or three, and almost always a blended menagerie of cats AND dogs. Honestly, my mother should be a candidate for sainthood. In a ten-year span she gave birth to five children, and in every photograph of our overflowing household, there are cats and dogs posed along with us for the camera, or adding to the mayhem that resulted as children chased each other from downstairs to upstairs, and back down again.
This story really begins by explaining that my father was a traveling salesman, who was “on the road” constantly, often gone two or three days per week, and he knocked on the doors of potential customers throughout the Pacific Northwest. As he drove from town to town, visiting with locals in cafés, he always made a point of asking where he could find the “dog pound.” Dad loved to visit the poor little guys who were doomed to a bleak fate after being abandoned, or found wandering, apparently homeless. He was always amazed at the kinds of dogs he would find there, like poodles and schnauzers and spaniels. He couldn’t imagine why someone would abandon a dog of any kind, but also realized that sometimes their humans didn’t have a choice. He visited the pounds week after week, year in and year out. Dad loved the “inmates” he found there, whether purebred or mutt, and if he couldn’t bring them all home, he was going to make sure their heads were scratched with an “Oh, you’re a good little rascal!” before their time was up. He was equally as adoring of cats, and usually just had to look to the neighborhood strays to add to our household.
In my father’s later years he walked the neighborhood every day, wearing a special shirt my mother had sewn for him. She attached six patch pockets, each to contain a small dog biscuit. As Dad strolled about his usual route, the resident dogs bounded up to greet him, eager for their treats. As I strolled with him one evening years ago, he described the dogs who lived along the way, telling me about their ages, breeds, and temperaments. Each pooch got a scratch between the ears, kind words, and a biscuit. Like my father, I can’t resist stopping to say “hello” to every pet I meet. It’s in my DNA.
You may have noticed that in the last decade or so, lots of humans like me are expressing the same adoration of their four-legged companions, and strive to care not just for their physical health, but their “emotional health” as well. Those of us who read cats’ facial expressions, and understand the meaning of their many vocalizations and whisker motions, as well as those of us who love to see our pooches “smile,” are not at all surprised by the explosion in pet specialty stores, pet photography, pet clothing and pet accessories. If this has caught you by surprise, perhaps you have been unaware of the number of American households with pets. I believed twenty, 30, and 40 years ago, long before the mega-pet stores and designer pet fashions hit the mass market, that at least half of American households harbored pets and cared for them, mostly “rescues.” Just because there had been no official polls about the numbers, it didn’t negate the reality of the tail-wagging I saw all around me, and I’ve always thought there should be a tip of the hat to the millions of people who took in pets to care for them.
It thrills me today that a HUGE truth has been acknowledged formally about our culture: statistics now show that 62% of U.S. households have pets. I’d bet two dog biscuits and a handful of kitty kibbles that back in my youth the numbers were as high. Sales of pet products are now a $45 billion dollar industry, and are climbing at the rate of about $2 billion per year. We’re buying the little rascals appetizers, vitamins, faux mink coats, costumes, and biker wear. We buckle them up in harness systems and seat belts for safety. We take them to day care and spas. Hotels are rolling out the red carpet to them. Love me? Love my animals!
I have also long believed that the presence of pets brings health and happiness to us, their humans. Studies now confirm that notion. How many of us have benefited from a daily walk with the dog, often the only activity that gets us out of a chair, or out from behind the wheel of a car? Walking pets reduces our stress level, and is good for our hearts. And speaking of hearts, research shows that pets provide psychological stability, and some measure of protection from heart disease. Pets help to lower blood pressure. 79% of pet owners polled said pets give them laughter and joy. They help us fight depression and loneliness. Seniors respond better to adversity and trauma with the help of pets. It’s now common for Alzheimer’s care facilities to allow dogs, cats, and birds to live among the residents.
The fact is pets are as American as apple pie. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were extremely fond of dogs, and both of these Founding Fathers had many. Washington’s Mt. Vernon estate bustled with a dozen hounds making themselves at home, and sometimes causing great commotion, particularly if an amorous male managed to break out of his solitary confinement in the barn. Martha Washington must have been a woman of tremendously good nature and humor, as well as a hostess extraordinaire, juggling the family canines, George’s political entertaining, neighbors, and travelers, all the while directing meal preparation in a large kitchen. On more than one occasion, as she prepared the table for distinguished guests, the roasted beef, leg of lamb, or dressed fowl disappeared from the kitchen countertop before it could be presented to the guests around the table.
Jefferson must have been my Dad’s role model. A world traveler who loved the French culture, the early Statesman brought back to the fledgling U.S. the dogs he befriended during his trips to “the Continent.” It was not uncommon for Jefferson’s canine companions to give birth to litters as they sailed back to the new world from their original French countryside birthplaces. Travel to France today, and you’ll see a culture enamored of four-pawed companions. I’ll never forget my first trip there, where les chiens and les chats accompany their humans everywhere they go. Perhaps to you the French display eccentricities that some of us Americans don’t understand, such as the presence of their dogs and cats in sidewalk cafes, restaurants, bars, and bullet-trains. Everywhere you go in France, so go les animaux. I felt right at home among them.
The oft-heard discussion of how “cats and dogs don’t mix or get along” never happened in our home. They just did. It didn’t matter if you were a human Chapman, or a canine Chapman or a feline Chapman, or a guinea pig Chapman; we were all in it together. The front and back doors were always open, and creatures of all varieties were running in and out, along with the Chapman children and the neighbor kids. When the doors were closed, there was bound to be a four-legged Chapman pawing the doorknob, of either cat or dog heritage. Even today, if you ask my siblings, cousins, and surviving aunts and uncles whether or not one can put dogs and cats together under the same roof, they would look at you curiously, and ask, “Why wouldn’t you?”
With pets at the center of my life at every stage and experience, I would absolutely lie if I told you there has never been a heartbreaking moment with them. Inevitably, if you cherish pets, and find great joy in adopting them, you will witness the ebb and flow of life and death. As my siblings and I aged, our pets shared even the most difficult experiences in our households. In the final weeks of my father’s life, when Alzheimer’s ravaged his brain, he clung like a small child to his “rescue” toy poodle Rosie. He held her tightly to his chest, even when he couldn’t recognize us as his children. She was his solace from the tangled cerebral maze that Alzheimer’s creates. The picture collage my sister and mother displayed at Dad’s memorial service featured image after image of Dad holding pets.
There’s another bittersweet image I cherish in my mind, one of my brother who died far too young from cancer. In his final months, a simple photo was snapped of him hugging his kitty Murray in his kitchen. There was nothing else going on in the picture. Just him, blissfully pressing Murray to his chest. It’s a happy memory, frozen forever after an indescribable sadness. When I adopted “Miss Kitty-D,” my precious black and grey tabby, in September 2001, I was recovering from the deaths of my brother and both parents, and I knew that a tiny ball of fur would go a long way in helping me smile and laugh again. She was a malnourished, frightened rescue kitten who was all ears, with an adorable spotted belly, and precious white “chops.” She grew on me instantly. Eight years later, I’m still smiling. Her “talkative” demeanor and her personality quirks make me laugh and laugh. Daily, I wake up to her warm, soft, purring body beside me in the bed.
And, yes, I have endured enormous heartbreak in the loss of each of my pets through the years. I will never forget the death of my 20 year-old orange tabby “Casey” in 2008. He was my “first-born” and my “little guy.” For nearly my entire adult life, he was there to greet me every time I walked in the front door. Letting go of his little body in the emergency animal hospital at 4 a.m. on the night he died was absolutely one of the most heart-wrenching experiences of my life. But, I thank God every night for his presence on earth as my pet. In nearly 20 years, he had been there for me through thick and thin, and I loved everything about him.
“Taffy,” “Quasar,” “Tiger,” “Pokie,” “Sylvester,” “Rambo,” “Scottie,” “Sophie,” “Emily.” These are just a few of the furry companions I have loved since childhood. It’s in their memory that I donate to organizations like the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS), and the Best Friends Animal Shelter. Perhaps you have a few favorites of your own. All animal care facilities in the country right now need financial and volunteer assistance. Our economic woes have been disastrous for them, and even a few dollars can help keep them going. They are on my check-writing list this Christmas. I hope you’ll put them on your list as well. I’ve put their contact info at the end of this blog.
I’m also thinking that this holiday season, the time is right once again to visit the animal shelters and adopt. Miss Kitty-D will adjust, and benefit from having a “sibling” again. My husband and I are ready for another orange tabby to love. And, in this household, there is plenty of that to go around.
Contact Information:
- SPCA International, PO Box 1230 Washington, DC 20013; www.spcai.org
- The Humane Society of the United States, 2100 L St., NW, Washington, DC 20037; Attn: Member Services; (202) 452-1100; membership@humanesociety.org
- Best Friends Animal Society, 5001 Angel Canyon Road, Kanab, UT 84741-5000; (435) 644-2001; donations@bestfriends.org
- American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA), 424 E. 92nd St., New York, NY 10128-6804; (800) 628-0028
