June 13, 2008Comments are closed.dogs, shel
As a fur parent I spend a lot of time trying to provide the best life for my dogs.
When it came to choosing each of them I researched a suitable breed. I spent a lot of time choosing friends for them to socialise with and I give them an interesting toy-filled environment. Having worked in rescue for the last six or so years, I was sure I knew the best way to raise a dog.
Imagine then, how perturbed I’ve been by the recent discovery that my dogs’ life compares less favourably to dogs living in a country that doesn’t even consider dogs… pets?
My recent trip to the outer islands of Vanuatu was a total eye opener. In a place where they had no electricity, phone or running water, my host family had the happiest and most well socialised dog I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.
However, they found the concept of treating dogs “like children” completely unbelievable. Putting clothes on a dog? They looked at me like I’d told them we had flown in by flapping our arms – are you mad, friend?
Dogs live outside with the other animals and serve their families by keeping watch and discouraging wild animals and vermin. But unlike dogs in other developing countries that have to live the “big city life” the dogs of the islands of Vanuatu, get to live the simple life of their semi-owners. Sleep, wake up, meet some peeps, eat something and sleep again. Repeat. Â
All the time I spend trying to exercise and socialise my terrible three seemed disfunctional when you watched the effortless language-dance between island dogs;
“Hi, who are you! Oh! This is your patch, eh? Cool? Yeah, we’re cool. See-ya next time!”
Dominant. Submissive. Perfectly practiced body language. No sweat! Why fight when you can just say “Alo” and move on…
They follow their family (although leashes and collars are unheard of) and meet and greet everyone on the way. They came hiking with us tourists. They avoid cars and cows. They live an exciting life of dirt and stink in their giant, never ending backyard.
Then there’s the chickens and the children. A dog who bothered the family’s valuable farm animals wouldn’t last, so the foul and piglets walk with confidence. Dogs who aren’t good at living with people don’t live long enough to breed, so while the human babies play on mats and eat fistfuls of food, “dog” wouldn’t dare be so presumptuous as to try and share – he waits submissively on the outer hoping that when everyone leaves he might be able to step in and vacuum.
Now I’m not so naive as to think that life is all rosy for a dog living in a society where dogs aren’t family members. Vet care is non-existent, dog food absent from even the biggest stores and the expats speak of terrible animal abuse (although I never saw any). But these dogs have their own kind to meet, jungle to explore and the family that they’ve chosen to adopt.
Seeing first hand what happens when a good temperament is the only criteria for a dogs’ success made it painfully obvious that we humans are to blame for the dysfunction and sorry life expectancy of the modern pet. Sure without our meddling all the dogs looked exactly the same (plain, medium and short haired). But the life of these un-owned, semi-wild dogs sure make the a modern dogs’ existence look very sad indeed.
