Man's Best Friend
A good deal has been written on the subject of the dog as man's best friend, hence it would serve little purpose for me to repeat all that here. For certain people in particular though, a dog might be their only friend. I have come across quite a number of elderly people in my life who, apart from the postman / post-lady, or the odd visitor from Social Services, have no friend relationships beyond their dog or cat. Dogs, due to their devotional nature, particularly feature. But it is not only the elderly. Many people who live in physically isolated areas or who are isolated through their personalities are also dependent upon an animal for friendship. There are even people who are surrounded by others, some who live in families, such as abused children (or abused adults), who are psychologically isolated and who's only friendly relationship is with a dog. And then there are people who are gravely ill. People who's condition slowly and privately degenerates and who depend upon their dog for comfort in their last years or months. I have certainly been to funerals or read accounts of people dying, where it has been said that the person's dog had been their only comfort, their only friend as they neared their end. A dog does not ask difficult questions, nor do they normally get emotional about the person's impending demise. This is all very fortunate for us humans, is it not?
What About The Dog?
I often find myself wondering, when a vicar or a member of the dearly departed person's family is giving an address about that person's final years and mentions how the person's dog had been with them as a steadfast friend to the last, "but what about the dog?"
Is it that people assume the friend relationship is only one way – that a dog can be a friend to a human being but not the other way around? Perhaps they assume that a dog lacks the capacity to have a sense of friendship with a human or even another dog – could that be true? Or is it that perhaps only the dog's owner imagines that the dog sees them as their friend, whereas in others believe the dog is merely behaving in that way in order to be provided with food and comforts?
I do not consider myself particularly sentimental, but it seems to me remarkably selfish of us to see things in this way. If a dog has devoted itself by being a friend to it's owner for a significant period of time and that person then dies, is it not the case that the animal will also feel a sense of loss, even if we don't go as far as to call it grief?
Of course in families when such a death occurs, the animal will usually be taken on by another family member, but I am talking here about people for whom their dog is their only family. Surely it is a subject worthy of consideration, even if we are not pet owner ourselves?
These questions have no definitive answer of course. I merely raise them as a point of social and psychological interest. It seems like the decent thing to do when dogs are unable to speak for themselves.
Nero
Such a situation, based upon more than one true story, appears in the book "Stories To Tell To Your Dog." Nero, a fairly young Doberman, notices his walks getting shorter and less frequent as his owner declines with a terminal illness. The dog does not understand the reasons and therefore is thinking only of himself (not a crime) when he decides to run away and take his chances in the big wide world. He does not get far before he meets trouble. Luckily a kindly young man helps him and takes him home. The resulting contact with Nero's owner delivers a surprisingly positive outcome.
Stories To Tell Your Dog is available as a paperback from Amazon or CreateSpace, and as an e-book from:
Amazon UK
Amazon.com (or by entering the title and author into your local Amazon website)
Smashwords (all formats)
N.B. You do not need an e-reader. You can download a Kindle App for your computer or download the book from Smashwords as a PDF or plain text file.
Other books by the same author are available on these sites and the bestselling paperback book Long Road Hard Lessons is available from Waterstones Bookshops in the UK.
A good deal has been written on the subject of the dog as man's best friend, hence it would serve little purpose for me to repeat all that here. For certain people in particular though, a dog might be their only friend. I have come across quite a number of elderly people in my life who, apart from the postman / post-lady, or the odd visitor from Social Services, have no friend relationships beyond their dog or cat. Dogs, due to their devotional nature, particularly feature. But it is not only the elderly. Many people who live in physically isolated areas or who are isolated through their personalities are also dependent upon an animal for friendship. There are even people who are surrounded by others, some who live in families, such as abused children (or abused adults), who are psychologically isolated and who's only friendly relationship is with a dog. And then there are people who are gravely ill. People who's condition slowly and privately degenerates and who depend upon their dog for comfort in their last years or months. I have certainly been to funerals or read accounts of people dying, where it has been said that the person's dog had been their only comfort, their only friend as they neared their end. A dog does not ask difficult questions, nor do they normally get emotional about the person's impending demise. This is all very fortunate for us humans, is it not?
What About The Dog?
I often find myself wondering, when a vicar or a member of the dearly departed person's family is giving an address about that person's final years and mentions how the person's dog had been with them as a steadfast friend to the last, "but what about the dog?"
Is it that people assume the friend relationship is only one way – that a dog can be a friend to a human being but not the other way around? Perhaps they assume that a dog lacks the capacity to have a sense of friendship with a human or even another dog – could that be true? Or is it that perhaps only the dog's owner imagines that the dog sees them as their friend, whereas in others believe the dog is merely behaving in that way in order to be provided with food and comforts?
I do not consider myself particularly sentimental, but it seems to me remarkably selfish of us to see things in this way. If a dog has devoted itself by being a friend to it's owner for a significant period of time and that person then dies, is it not the case that the animal will also feel a sense of loss, even if we don't go as far as to call it grief?
Of course in families when such a death occurs, the animal will usually be taken on by another family member, but I am talking here about people for whom their dog is their only family. Surely it is a subject worthy of consideration, even if we are not pet owner ourselves?
These questions have no definitive answer of course. I merely raise them as a point of social and psychological interest. It seems like the decent thing to do when dogs are unable to speak for themselves.
The story of Nero has a happy ending
Nero
Such a situation, based upon more than one true story, appears in the book "Stories To Tell To Your Dog." Nero, a fairly young Doberman, notices his walks getting shorter and less frequent as his owner declines with a terminal illness. The dog does not understand the reasons and therefore is thinking only of himself (not a crime) when he decides to run away and take his chances in the big wide world. He does not get far before he meets trouble. Luckily a kindly young man helps him and takes him home. The resulting contact with Nero's owner delivers a surprisingly positive outcome.
Amazon UK
Amazon.com (or by entering the title and author into your local Amazon website)
Smashwords (all formats)
N.B. You do not need an e-reader. You can download a Kindle App for your computer or download the book from Smashwords as a PDF or plain text file.
Other books by the same author are available on these sites and the bestselling paperback book Long Road Hard Lessons is available from Waterstones Bookshops in the UK.
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