For the love of dogs

You may have heard the news reports this week. In separate incidents, two women died trying to save dogs. One woman ran back into her burning home to rescue her pet, and perished. Another tried to rescue a dog stranded on a busy highway, and was hit by a vehicle.

Loyalty goes both ways, it seems.

They’re sad stories, about unfulfilled potential. The women, both fairly young, were under forty. Were their actions stupid? Reckless? Probably. But I completely understand why they did it.

As far as companions go, dogs are top-notch. They’re always delighted to see you when you arrive home at the end of the day, they want to be in your company without demanding much more than your presence, and they will defend and protect you regardless of their stature, age or mobility. They are faithful.

Single occupant dwellings are the new black. Although we’re more connected than ever thanks to the internet and social networking, more of us live alone nowadays.

When my circumstances changed five years ago, and my full house became an empty nest every second week, I thought I might die from loneliness. We are social creatures, and while I craved some alone time, the reality of a half-full life was hard to take at first. Despite the efforts of beautiful friends to help me fill the time, too many hours were spent on the couch with just a wine bottle and a teddy bear for company.

A sad-arsed existence was not sustainable for me, so I got myself a furry little companion named Rosie. And committed myself to another long-term relationship. Dogs can live for up to twenty years, and I was in for the long haul.

From my perspective, our relationship was great, and my health improved as couch-bound wine-guzzling time was replaced or reduced by long walks with Rosie. About a year into our relationship though, I realised poor Rosie was suffering as I had been before her arrival. She was lonely during the days when I was working. She was demented with joy when I arrived home, and more and more demanding of attention. For her sake, and mine, I had to bring a second dog into our home.

Ethan joined our family about two and half years ago. He’d been dumped in Mildura, and brought to Melbourne by a dog rescue organisation, hoping to place him in a new home. He was a little skittish when he first arrived, and still has an aversion to some things, but overall he’s a jolly little fellow and he and Rosie are utterly devoted to one another.

They’ve seen me through so many challenges and successes over the last few years, and have kept me company in lonely times. They’ve scared me, when they’ve gone missing or been injured, and they’ve made me laugh with their crazy antics. I owe them.

Would I run into a burning building to save them, if they were in peril? It’s difficult to know exactly what you would do until you’re in a particular situation, but I think I would. The thought of losing them distresses me, that’s for sure. It’s tragic that lives have been lost trying to save a couple of dogs. But I totally get it. RIP ladies.