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Read more of Karen Fishler's dog diary columns  |
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 September 6, 1998 |dog doubts
Well, that horrible moment has arrived. We think we've figured out what kind of dog we want, and almost simultaneously, it seemed, we began to have what you might call "tension" around the subject of getting a dog. "We" means, of course, me and my husband. We've been talking about getting a dog for months and months. We're very clear about why (I need one, that's why) and the overall benefits (dogs are fun, they make you healthier, etc.). But somehow it took until now to realize that, for Barry, it's not as simple as it is for me. He thinks about the fact that we won't be able to go out for hours at a time without some planning and without knowing some good dog babysitters. He thinks about the fact that travel will be more complicated. He thinks about the fact that we'll have to get up early in the morning, just when we most want to sleep a little more (a not insignificant consideration; we live on writers' time, and do not get up, shall we say, extremely early) in order to take the dog outside. All of this is true. We are used to being able to do what we want. This is mostly because we have no children. When you don't have kids, more things you do are matters of choice, and one definitely gets used to this over time. So, for us, getting a dog is the closest we will ever come to experiencing the constraints on freedom that parents of a young child have to deal with as a matter of routine. As we were talking about all this, a couple of things emerged. One is that we will, in fact, get a dog. We will find dog babysitters and adjust somewhat and it will all work out. It's too important to me for us not to go ahead, just as, when it was terribly important for Barry to get the boat he'd dreamed of for decades, we got one. If there's one thing our marriage is about, it's both of us getting those things that our souls tell us are necessary . The other is how much I still need and want a dog. I'm horribly worried that we'll make the wrong choice and screw up the dog's life because we're beginners. I tell myself we've had two cats for years and years and they're in great shape, that we're quick learners and very committed and dogs know how to be dogs even if we don't know how to be dog people, and that everything will be fine. But I'm still worried. Despite that, it's clear I do need a dog. I need the connection with dogginess (whatever that is) and with nature, and, just as a dog needs regular hours, I need regular hours as well. Having a dog will require me to live in a regular way. I believe — I'm certain, in fact — that this will help me feel more connected and help me write. Just as monks are able to contemplate the infinite, in part, because they meditate according to regular schedule, writers usually write better when they write regularly. I have some trouble doing this for myself. However, I suspect it will be much easier if I'm taking care of a dog, because doing so requires being reliable and predictable. So we talked and talked about it, and as part of working things out, we went online to see what dogs are at our local shelters. None seemed suitable . . . AGAIN. So then we fired up a CD-ROM about dogs that Barry had gotten me months ago, and filled out one of those interactive tests to find out what the best dog for us was. And, interestingly, it told us that the perfect dog was something called an Entlebucher Sennenhund, also known as an Entelbuch Mountain Dog. Another possibility was the Greater (or Great) Swiss Mountain Dog. We looked at each other in amazement. Recently we discovered a fabulous cable channel called Animal Planet, which we think was started by the Discovery Channel folks. Animal Planet's slogan: All Animals, All the Time. We're addicted. (To tell you how addicted, we have been known, on a Friday night, to watch four back-to-back episodes of an AP show called "Vets in Practice," which follows a crop of vet-school graduates in England as they go through their first year as real vets. Karen and Barry, on the Dawn Patrol . . . .) Animal Planet has a cool show called "Breed All About It," which (obviously) is about specific dog breeds. Sometime in the last week or so, they ran a segment about the Greater Swiss Mountain Dog, focusing on a breeder in Maryland. The dogs were wonderful: calm, good with children, good watchdogs . . . they even have short hair, which is not an absolute requirement but certainly something we'd prefer. It seems the Greater Swiss is one of four Swiss Mountain Dog breeds. The one people know best in the U.S. is the Bernese Mountain Dog. The fourth is the Appenzell Mountain Dog. Why, when we were convinced a shelter dog was what we wanted, are we thinking about Swiss breeds that are rare enough we might not even be able to find one? I think it's just because we're so frustrated with looking for the right dog in a shelter. And because of our lack of experience with dogs, we're not sure of what we will get from a shelter — not confident of our ability to "read" who a dog really is, given that stressful and demoralizing environment. So we're genuinely worried about making a mistake and causing problems for a dog that's already had its share, something that's less likely if we're working with a responsible breeder and there's time to get to know the dog. So, now that our tension has surfaced and we've talked it through, I'm going to go online and make phone calls and try to find Entlebucher Sennenhund breeders. Or, failing that, breeders of Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs. It would be best, of course, if these mythical breeders were on the West Coast so we could visit them. I hope they exist. Needless to say, if anybody out there happens to know one, we would be thrilled. Just e-mail me at [email protected]. If not, I'll be on the Net. There's got to be a dog for us out there. Maybe if I sing . . . 
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