In the foreword of Sgt. Stubby, (Bausum, pg. 9) veteran David Sharpe describes the chilling moment where he sat, gun in mouth, prepared to end his life. This moment ended when his adopted shelter dog, Cheyenne, licked his ear and gazed at him “as only a dog can”. Cheyenne reminded him that while he felt his life was no longer survivable, it was the central point of her whole existence. We can learn a great many things from our pets. They are mindful, live in the moment, and exist to love us in exchange for care and love in return. David Sharpe went on to found Companions for Heroes, an organization that pairs shelter animals with military members, military family, and First Responders free of charge to raise awareness for both service member trauma and animal welfare and adoption (companionsforheroes.org).

Even Heros Need Pets

      Less often, it’s the little joys that a pet provides that save lives without any awareness. I have arrived home having a bitter argument in my head with individuals who have no idea my anger, thoughts or feelings. There are a great number of tirades regularly happening in my mind based on conversations I’ve never had. Or  maybe the age old “things I wished I said 15 years ago in Junior High when that girl told everyone how much I weighed after she stood there for 10 minutes after her name was called to find out the information”. I’ll sit in traffic for an hour, and have five imaginary conversations with people who I’ve rarely spoken to and somehow managed to create a scenario where not only were we having a serious conversation, but they’ve royally offended my honor, intelligence, and sense of purpose. I have informed them of their ignorance and lack of purpose as well as threatened the right testicle of Mr. Trump (so he can never be right again), and convinced them that I would talk to a taxidermy creature if it meant I no longer had to talk to them. In my righteous huff, I walk in the door, see a fluffy Rider face, and completely forget my imaginary feud with a near stranger.

        Rider saves my life every day. Without him, I would stay in bed until noon, hiding in my blackout curtained living room, and avoiding contact with all humans. I would probably have been fired, maybe would be homeless if they could figure out how to kick me out of the place I cannot leave, and probably very very pale. Instead, I get out of bed when he alerts me he needs the bathroom, food or simply my attention because he’s tired of being the only living creature in the apartment. We go for walks so he can have exercise and the bathroom and I can have contact with the world and exposure to sunlight. I go to work because I refuse to let him starve or be homeless. In short, I people because of Rider. He needs me to be a responsible functional person because without me, he would starve, be bored, and poop everywhere.

       I know I am loved. It is not simply the unconditional (though occasionally judgmental) love Rider offers that keeps me moving in the world, but his dependence and lack of opposable thumbs and leash laws. While I would be missed by those who loved me, especially if I moved into a treehouse on the top of Mount Whitney and forsake all technology and civilization to eat tree bark and insects, only Rider would be truly lost. His loss would hurt him and the idea of hurting him is impossible. Which is why my tree house would have a system of pulleys and I would become proficient in bow and arrow-ing. My parents and Michael would probably also miss me which means I’d have to have treehouse visiting hours, defeating the purpose of living in a treehouse on the top of a mountain. Unrelated though, Rider is currently judging me because after peeing on the floor twice, Rider would wake me up every hour to go outside and pee and then he would come in and drink a ton of water. So I put baby electrolyte fluid in his water to increase the hydration of the water so maybe he wouldn’t pee everywhere and he gave me a look that indicated he intended to poop in my shoe while I was at work. So I’m planning a photoshoot for him this weekend where he has to wear a funny hat and possibly carry a whip if the belt is long enough.

      This may sound extreme, but the internet is filled with people who are their dog on the internet. Rider has 660 followers on Instagram, most of whom are just people interacting with other people as their pets. A person without a pet or over active imagination might call us crazy, but the reality is that being Rider on the internet gives me an impersonal communication outlet that still manages to be deeply personal. Rider’s friends are my friends and I care more about dogs I’ve never met on the internet then people I see every day at work.

References

Bausum, Ann. Sergeant Stubby: How a Brave Dog and His Best Friend Helped Win World War I and Stole the Heart of a Nation. National Geographic, 2015.