WHAT'S IN A NAME? WHAT'S IN A DOG? (part one)

WHAT'S IN A NAME? WHAT'S IN A DOG? (part one)

In this instance, both name and dog are Just Bill, the title of my novel for adults about a rescued Lab. If you read the blog entry before this one, you’ve already heard from Bill. Because he’s a dog, it wouldn't occur to him to speak ill of anyone, or to hold a grudge. 

True, it would not occur to him to speak, period.  But if he could speak, Bill wouldn’t bring up certain painful facts. That’s left to me, to describe how a dog devoted to his master is given up. How this happens and what it leads to dramatize the book’s theme—that lives are better, and sometimes even saved through the relationship between a person and a dog. My own life is certainly better because I live with a dog, and I hope Just Bill makes the case for this partnership.

What’s in a dog? 

When I was preparing to publish Just Bill, I asked Dr. Stanley Coren for permission to quote a story from his landmark book, The Intelligence of Dogs. Here’s the letter I wrote to him:

Dear Dr. Coren:

This is two things:  a fan letter, and a request for a favor.

First, as one who admires dogs, let me thank you for having done so much for them.  Obviously, you have done a great deal for humans as well, by raising people’s awareness of canine consciousness.  But in so doing, you have improved—I’m sure of this-- the lives of countless pets, and many abandoned animals and shelter dogs. They gained good homes in the climate of improved awareness and understanding that THE INTELLIGENCE OF DOGS and your other writings have helped to foster.

Here’s the second shoe.  Until recently, I served as a tenured faculty member in the department of humanities at Lawrence Technological University in Southfield, Michigan. I am also a fiction writer, and have written a short novel for adults called JUST BILL. In this work of magical realism, I wanted to trace, through various trials and tribulations, the career of a dog rescued in his first year by a retiree.  

Human and dog characters alternate in the narrative, and the story's conclusion is full of hope and renewal.  It is unapologetically a story of sentiment, but by no means sentimental.  Throughout the writing, I have done my best to capture what I understand to be reality as experienced by dogs.  

No passage from The Intelligence of Dogs has served me better in my own work than the story of your “Cavalier King Charles spaniel Wiz standing in the circle of light” on your kitchen floor.  For me, this anecdote makes a perfect case for speaking of dog consciousness.  It captures the essence of what my story hopes to dramatize, without resorting to the cartoon anthropomorphism that so often figures in dog stories.

For this reason, I am convinced that the meaning and intent of JUST BILL can’t be better introduced than by your story about Wiz.  Appearing at the beginning, before the story proper, it will prepare readers for what is to follow. The length of the quoted passage—291 words—far exceeds the “fair use” clause for copyrighted work, so I am hoping you will grant me permission to use the passage.

Dr. Coren granted me permission. But instead of using his story at the beginning, my publisher and I decided to use it on the back cover. From a publishing perspective, this turned out to be a big mistake. Intrigued by the jacket photo, people wanted to read a description on the back, not a story from a different book. That's the main reason for this new edition.

In the next post (Wednesday), I’ll provide Dr. Coren's story. It doesn’t have directly to do with Just Bill, but it does express the point of view at the heart of my short novel.

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THE REAL WORK OF DOGS

                     

THE REAL WORK OF DOGS

Some years ago, a letter to the Naples (Florida) Daily News was headlined “Feasibility issue keeps dog park backers from getting a plan with bite.” It described the difficulties faced by dog owners looking for public places to take their pets.

The dog park finally got built, but in Naples as elsewhere, it’s still a hassle finding places to take my border collie, Chelsea. She loves going for walks, but not dog parks. When we first adopted her, I took her to one in Michigan. She promptly set up shop underneath my park bench, waiting for me to figure it out. She still keeps her distance from other dogs, but eight years later that’s mostly because she’s now almost blind.

A different story. My point here is this: if dogs are thought of only in terms of duck or pheasant hunting, or as a fashion accessory tucked in the owner’s forearm, with a rhinestone collar coordinated to match today’s ensemble, or as security for a car dealership's inventory, then expecting others to worry about dogs or their owners makes little sense.

But those who think this way are misguided. As Jon Katz explains in his book, The New Work of Dogs, very few canines these days are saving travelers in mountain passes (St. Bernards), herding sheep or cattle (collies, shepherds, corgis), catching vermin (terriers), or rooting out badgers (dachshunds).

Instead, they mostly serve as companions. Research has proven them to be remarkably good at improving both the mental and physical well-being of their owners. That’s why dogs are regularly taken to children’s hospitals, and nursing homes. It’s why the reward for good behavior in some prisons is access to a dog.

If you live with one, all this is old news to you. But many remain ignorant. The companionship meaning of dogs is especially true in retirement communities, where many have lost spouses and live alone. I made that one of the main themes in my novel, Just Bill.

My point again is this: in actual day-to-day life, dogs are often the first line of defense against depression, boredom, loneliness. For this reason it’s long past time for us to recognize that, for a great many people, dogs have become fundamental, not incidental.

If I’m right, it makes sense for owners to be allowed to have their leashed pets with them in public parks and on beaches, not just at dog runs. Some more enlightened restaurants have followed their European counterparts by making dogs welcome, at least on outdoor patios.

In our time—complicated and dehumanized in many ways--the main work of dogs is to be with us, to help us to live. To help us, in fact, to be more human.
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