We all know our own personalities can rub off on our dogs. We know dogs
are different from cats or birds or horses and other animals in their basic
nature. Along those lines, customers at our kennel often ask which puppy in a
litter is the ruler, which is the most loving or which is the most playful.
Sometimes, when looking at a puppy by itself and searching for an emotional
connection with this prospective fur-child, customers will ask if I think the pup
will turn out this way or that. When I say it depends on them more than
anything else, they are often surprised. "The dog is going to learn from you," I
say. "You are the greatest teacher."
Here at our kennels, sometimes we raise whole litters together and we
have a graduation system, like in school. Littermates start out together, but
as they become more dominant, or according to their growth and the special
feeding they may require along the way, they move up the ladder into the next
run. They haven't lost sight of their littermates because they are in the next
kennel run beside them. And the new kennel mates aren't strangers either because
they've been housed next to each other for a while. The result is, our
litters don't have just one dominant pup with a bunch of followers. Instead, what we
have is a bunch of confident, independent thinkers.
When I say, "You are the greatest teacher" I'm not speaking about
rigid discipline such as one endures in Obedience classes. Maybe "rigid" isn't
the right word for that, but I think it illustrates the difference between
fundamental training and the invisible "something" beyond that which develops
between you and your dog just by traveling the same path in life. In my novel "Fate of the Stallion," this mysterious bond is expressed in a scene where Dan Marshall senses the presence of an Arabian stallion running along the river
beside him. The horse seems to be calling him, as if saying "Find me! I am yours!"
and the story reveals the parallels of their lives, showing how man and
stallion share the same fate. Likewise, in "The Blue Ribbon" a novel set in the
competitive world of dog shows, there is a scene called "Miles To Go." In this
scene, Robert Sheffield, a dog show judge loved by two different women who
own rival kennels, is hiking in the Canadian woods with his dog, reflecting on
love. If you'll notice, the path in the woods symbolizes Robert's own path in
life, and his dog is right there beside him. Like many of us do, Robert is
thinking to his dog in a mental conversation, wondering if he has made the right
decision by letting the woman he really loves slip through his fingers. Among
the trees, the dog sees a deer, runs after it, but, of course, the deer gets
away. "She got away?" Robert asks. "It's OK, fella. We've got miles to go."
In those miles, will there be other deer? Will they see the same deer again?
I wasn't sure when I wrote that scene how it would turn out.
Dogs have an emotional appeal that covers our widest range of feeling.
In my writing, whether about dogs or horses, the stories often deal with
keeping our sense of love alive. Over and over again, at book signings and
lectures, I am asked "What does keeping love alive matter to a man like you, who has
everything he could possibly want and more than he can handle?" I guess my
reputation for playfulness has something to do with that. Surely, someone like me
doesn't have a care in the world! I say this with tongue in cheek, of course.
Married at nineteen, a father soon after that and selling my artwork as
souvenirs to tourists, you could say I've been around the block a few times. In fact,
I'd say I've been around the block and all over the neighborhood! I've met
many people in that neighborhood and I've come to believe our ability to love
is eroded by the rotten things that happen to us. It is also nurtured by
anything that makes us feel good and important.
As an artist, my studio has been committed to uplifting, encouraging
work such as the Hevener figurines and paintings for over thirty years now. Very
few animal lovers are not familiar with our collectible figurines with their
open expressions and smiling faces. Even The Antiques Road Show has featured
them. And all of our figurines, prints, books or CDs are made in honor of the
animals who keep alive our ability to love, in a world where it is very
difficult to do so.
Let's talk about that world.
Today, we are facing a crumbling economy. Let me rephrase that. We're
not facing a crumbling economy; we're in it. Just about everywhere we turn,
something is falling apart. All of us know people who have lost their jobs. All of
us see businesses closing. All of us see odd legislation being passed
things we never would have considered before the day in September that changed it
all. There is an uneasiness around us. And it's growing. As we deal with
serious issues more and more, as our families fracture and our natures become more
hardened, our pets become a comfort to us and sometimes the only way to keep
our hearts open.
At a recent high school appearance, I spoke in the auditorium about the
many things people can do with their lives; the many adventures they can have
in the creative fields I know something about. Publishing, the record
business, television, movies, horse racing, dog shows, horse shows, the art world;
surely I could open doors for them in an exciting array of life's opportunities.
But, looking around that auditorium, I saw no spark of interest or
imagination. As we left that school, I said to my assistant, "Maxine, this is the first
time I can ever remember not even reaching one soul." And I asked myself what
kind of society would want zombie-like citizens such as I had just seen. Was
it an "inner city" school I had just been to? Yes. Was it New York or Chicago
or Philadelphia? No. It was a school in the town of Lancaster, Pennsylvania;
in the county known for its industrious Pennsylvania Dutch; the county in which
I live. Were they Pennsylvania Dutch kids I was speaking with? No, they were
not. In much the same way that Hawaii was invaded by outsiders and the values
of its native population changed forever, Lancaster County has changed and I
doubt if there was even one student of Pennsylvania Dutch background in that
school. This is serious. It's why teachers are giving up. And it has happened in
our lifetime!
The hopelessness of those students mirrored the hopelessness of their
homes. But I knew these kids had pets at home, too. How did I know? I asked
them. In a show of hands, reluctant at first, I had found out how many had horses,
dogs, cats, fish and other pets. And I thought to myself, this is the first
thing they're responding to. In a world where so much is out of their control,
they don't feel like they can reach the lofty things I'm talking about and
maybe they can't. But they can have an influence on their pets, and that's a
start.
Today, right now, pets are more important than ever. In order to keep
pets and take care of them, we have to provide for them. To provide for your
pet, you have to buy food. Which is best, you wonder?
You must take your pet to the veterinarian. Who is the best vet around,
you ask?
If you want a litter of puppies, you must find a mate. Where do I find
the perfect match, you ask, searching out the local kennel club.
When the pups are born, it's one of the most magical experiences of your
life. You'll always remember it. Now, you must raise them and for the next
couple of months you will do everything you can to raise them well. You'll have
paper work to fill out: registrations and pedigrees to prepare and sign. You'll
meet new people when families come to you for the puppies you brought into
the world. Everywhere your pet takes you, it means dealing with other people,
talking things over and finding out what works for you. Before you know it, you
have a lifestyle and a reason to live.
That school of the zombies? It took me a while, but I finally figured it
out. They didn't want to see an author that day. They wanted a ray of hope. I
guess I should have brought a puppy with me.
Next time, I'll remember that.