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Show PAGE 18 THE ZEPHYRAUGUST 1991 In Defense of Dogs by Jim Stiles What a sorry atats of affairs. Saddam Hussein has survivsd the war intact and has 84 pounds of enriched uranium hidden in a remote mountain fortress. The Soviet Union is In a state of chaos and disorder. Clarence Thomas, the whitest black man I have ever seen, is about to assume his position on the Supreme Court Utah Is still last In the nation in education. The Grand County Commission still wants to buy the Keystone PH. The world Is going to the dogs. If only it were true. In fact, America, at least, is going to the cats. A recent study indicates that cats now outnumber dogs as the pet of preference. What is wrong with people? I like cats alright. They're low maintenance, which is nice. They eat a little and they sleep a lot, nd other than their formative period when they bat balls of yarn around and try to claw you, they don't do much of anything else. They ust lay there. And yet in this Age of where most people don't want to be bothered by responsibilities that fail to award Instant gratification, dogs have fallen from favor. Not only must they play second fiddle to their feline friends, they are being denied their civil rights as well. I am particularly concerned by efforts to restrict canine access to public accommodations. Something has to be done. But why me? Why do I feel the need to step forward at this time and place and appoint myself the protector of all dogs? I'll tell you why; because when I'm with dogs, I feel that I'm with "my people". I've always been like this. It could explain my Irresistible urge to chew on rubber bones at times and dip dog biscuits in milk for a midnight snack. Self-Absorpti- Still, I failed to realize the bond that existed between myself and dogs until I was past 21 years old. When I was a kid, my family had a series of dogs, none of which lasted more than a few months. My parents gave up trying to have a dog until I went off to college. I don't know. Maybe they needed more privacy or something. Anyway, when I was a sophomore, I drove up to visit the family and to borrow some money and was unprepared for the joit that awaited me. Actually, It wasn't a Jolt; It was more like a sting, when I walked through the front door and was attacked by a little furry white creature with big teeth. "My Godl" I screamed as my parents rushed in from the den. "TAKE OUT ITS BATTERIESI" scooped up the little rat dog and held it up for me to inspect more held the closely. dog at bay with an umbrella. "This Is Duniwassal," my mother explained. "He's s Westhighland Terrier. We Just felt that with you away at college, it was too quiet around here. When we saw him It was love at first sight" I looked at my mother and this vibrating rodent that she held tenderly In her arms. I did not believe that the woman who had brought me Into this world, who had raised me to adulthood (more or less), who had stood by me through thick and thin, was capable of naming my replacement Duniwassal. And yet, there was the proof, all 12 pounds of him, looking content even smug-i- n my mother's grip. It was at this moment that I realized I had always underestimated the Intelligence of dogs. My mother I -- Several years later, out of college on a long trip to Alaska, I passed a sign on a dirt road near Mount McKinley that said "PUPS FOR SALE." I was dubious, but my buddy convinced me we should at least take a look. Twenty minutes later, we drove out of there with an eight week old HuskyShepherd mix which we named Muckluk because it was the only eskimo word beside "igloo" that we knew. I couldn't see naming the dog Igloo. In the days and weeks that followed, Muck ate, in addition to inordinate quantities of puppy chow, my favorite hat, the arm rests on my car, the front seat (driver side) on the foods (aluminum foil packaging VW, the gearshift knob on my car, and all my freeze-drie- d Included). It must have all agreed with her because she grew to about 70 pounds before her first birthday. With age, of course, came maturity and a wisdom that I had never truly sensed In a dog before. It became apparent and somewhat humbling after a while, to realize that my dog was actually smarter than me. One day In those early years, we were exploring canyons In Arches near the Fiery Furnace. We came to one narrow, twisting slot canyon; Muck gazed into its depth and sauntered over to a Juniper tree and stretched out in the shade beneath IL I commanded her to follow, but she merely raised an eyebrow, shrugged apathetically, and rolled over on her back. I started up the canyon alone, only to discover it boxed out In less than a hundred moved on. yards. When I returned, Muck got up wearily on all fours and The dog knew it was a box canyon. Somehow she knew, and she was disgusted that I did not have the good sense she eras blessed with. She also managed to maintain her dignity when mine had splintered to pieces. Once, by accident, I met Robert Bedford at a cafe in Hanksville. I Impressed Redford to tears when I Informed him that, "Next to the Wizard of Oz, Jeremiah Johnson is my favorite movie." really said that Redford yawned, and started to walk away when lluclduk appeared from behind the building and paused in front of him. "That's a beautiful dog you have," said Bob. He leaned over to pet her; Muckluk looked over her shoulder, devastated Redford with one of her famous scornful looks, and walked casually Into the shade of the car. That dog had class. A year later Muckluk had pups and I kept one of them. Squawk was not as smart as her mother, but you'd never find a kinder, gentler dog anywhere. Those two dogs were with me for over 15 years, and although they're both gone now, I still think I have two dogs. And I still get nostalgic when I find tufts of hair underneath the couch. I Somehow I've wandered into a persona! history of my life with dogs, when I was supposed to be here defending their civil rights. And if s true. Dogs are kept out of motels and restaurants. No matter how well you dress them up, dogs are prohibited from walkirg on trails and even in the back country of National Parks. A few years ago, Canyonlands National Park banned Tex and Millie McClatchy's dog Belle from running Cataract Canyon. This dog has been on national television for crying out loud. Belle was an Integral part of the folk lore of the Colorado River. John Wesley Powell, Bert Loper, Norm Nevills, Belle the dog. Doesn't anyone at least have a sense of history? In 1987, even Earth First! the radical environmental group banned dogs from Its annual rendezvous on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Here was a sight - hundreds of d remnant hippies, beer swilling, bearded, environmentalists chanting obscene on and But Ponderosa urinating slogans pines. dogs were not silowed because they were not considered a part of the "natural scene." Indeed. For ten years, I worked for the National Park Service and, as an obedient public law as well as was canineiy possible. But it wasn't servant, enforced the spirit of the anti-p- et a With always easy. growing sense of...concem, I watched humans decapitate Juniper trees for their evening bonfires, Immortalize themselves with hammer & chisel on desert varnished canyon walls, run doughnuts with their mountain bikes, and Jeeps, and ATVs through the TransAms. cryptogamic soil, and lob beer cans out the windows of their Never ever have I seen a dog commit any of these despicable violations. So what happened? Instead of banning humans from National Parks ( a completely logical progression of thought), the bureaucrats took it out on the dogs. Of course, the restrictions were applauded by many "environmentalists" who feel that dogs are not a natural part of any "That dog Just ruined mv wilderness experience!" says the man with the Vanilla Ice haircut, Patagonia Jacket and Gortex parka, Yak Works pack, North Face prime northern goose down bag and geodesic tent He throws his gear Into hla $40,000 SAAB TURBO and Indignantly drives away. Excuse me, but I prefer puppies to yuppies every day of the week. I realize that dogs are not perfect but almost all of them have redeeming qualities. My neighbor, Toots McDougald, has a dog named Sassle, which honestly looks like a mutated little black hairy watermelon. But I love that dog, In spite of myself. My dogs had their faults -- never did house train Squawker and she lived to be 15. Muckluk was an habitual rabbit chaser. And squirrels, chipmunks, mice kangaroo rats...anything that moved. She actually caught a lizard once, a western whiptail as I recall. She ate It right down and It appeared to be damn tasty. hairy-legge- fast-movi- ng so-call- ed eco-syste- cross-suspensi- on 1 can hear the cries and protesta right now. But Is it really so bad? Consider for a moment the rabbits that my dogs so dearly loved to pursue and harass. Each animal has developed its own defense mechanism in order to survive as a species. The turtle has its shell, the porcupine depends on its quills, the skunk has its own unique defense system. But many smaller animals depend on speed and quickness to survive. Now, it's a sadly accepted fact that the predator populations - the wolves, foxes bears, bobcats, mountain lions - have been severely depleted. The coyotes are mercilessly I hunted and trapped. And what happens to their Intended victims? What happens to the cotton-tail- s, the whiptail lizards, the antelope squirrels? They start getting complacent; their speed Isnt as critical as it once was to their survival. So they eat more, they get bored, they watch network television. |
