Call me today
These are exquisite words from Cynopolis.
And the question is how can we meet our dogs needs as dogs in our human world? How can we learn to see things from our dogs point of view? How do we keep our dogs safe from predators, the rescue centres, shelters, dog parks, even euthanasia, all because we humans have misunderstood their needs and humanised them.
I am a Malinois.
Gifted among dogs, I shine in all disciplines and I am always ready to work. Today, I am asked to lounge on the couch all day.
I am an Akita Inu.
An outstanding hunting dog, my ancestors were also used for dogfighting. Today, I am asked to be tolerant with my peers, and I am criticised for my reactivity when one of them approaches me.
I am a Beagle.
When I was chasing my prey, I gave voice so the hunters could follow me. I led the dance. Today, they put me on an electric collar to keep me quiet, and they want me to come to the reminder of a snap of the fingers.
I am a Yorkshire Terrier.
I was a formidable rat hunter in the English mines. Today, they think I'm not able to use my paws and they always keep me in their arms.
I am a Labrador Retriever.
My vision of happiness is a dip in a pond to bring back to my master the duck he has just shot. Today, we forget that I was a sports dog, I'm obese and I have to play the children's nanny.
I am a Jack Russell.
I can stand up to a fox bigger than me in its own burrow. Today, they reproach me for my bad temper and they want to make me a lap dog.
I am a Siberian Husky.
I experienced the wide open spaces of northern Russia, where I could tow sleds at impressive speed. Today, my only horizon is the walls of the garden, and my only occupation is the holes I dig in the ground.
I am a Border Collie.
I am made to work eight hours a day, and I am an incomparable artist of herding work. Today, they blame me because, for lack of sheep, I try to control bicycles, cars, children in the house, and everything that is in motion.
I'm beautiful, I'm alert, I'm obedient, I fit in a bag… but I'm also an individual who needs to express his instincts, and I'm not adapted to the sedentary life you want me to lead. Spending eight hours a day alone in the garden, seeing you a little in the evening when you come home and having the right for all activity only to take a little hygienic walk will make me deeply unhappy. I'll express it by barking all day long, turning your yard into a minefield, defecating indoors, being unmanageable the few times I find myself outside, and, sometimes, spending my days slumped on my cushion. You will then think that I am happy to be able to enjoy all this comfort while you go to work: in reality, I will be in full depression.
If you like me, if you've always dreamed of me, if my beautiful azure eyes or my athletic look appeal to you, but you can't offer me a real dog's life, a life that is really worth to be lived, and if you can't offer me the job that my genes demand… then give up on me. If you like my look but you are not ready to accept my character traits resulting from rigorous genetic selection, and that you think you can change me with only your good will... then give up on me. I am a 21st century dog, yes. But, crouching deep inside me, still slumbers the one who fought, the one who hunted, the one who pulled sleds, the one who guided a herd. And, sooner or later, he will wake up. For better or for worse.