Farm Fresh Blog

This series of photographs got me to thinking about dogs and kids.

Every day this child takes a stroll around the neighborhood with her grandfather, and every day our house is one of their stops because of this big white dog. Briar has watched this child grow up. I clearly recall the first time she smiled her toothless grin at that big white dog and Briar's heart melted. The dog had never seen a human that small before and I was a tad worried until I watched her expression change to the same look reserved for baby lambs. Briar got it, she just got it. And they've been friends every since.

And this works for the dog and for the child. This little girl will grow up loving animals and she won't be afraid of big dogs, and Briar, and dogs like her, will benefit from being seen as a person of value. This dog is teaching not only the child, but her parents and her grandparents, and everyone else who experiences the bond between a dog and child. Briar isn't just a dirty dog in the barnyard. She is Briar The Person, someone who has feelings, likes and dislikes, and rights. She is not a piece of property; she is not a tool. She is a 'someone' not a 'something.'

As a child, I was born with a passion for dogs. My mother likes to tell the story of how, as a toddler, I interrupted my grandfather's funeral by loudly announcing to everyone there was a dog in the cemetery. I was born with a passion for dogs, but I was educated by my parents how to properly behave with a dog, and that is the key to a happy life for both the child and the dog.

When I was a kid, we had a pit bull. Say what you will about these dogs, but I will still stand up and loudly defend them as the perfect kid's dog. There is a reason why they were called "nanny dogs."  Butch was a black brindle dog with a white t-shirt, and he was our constant companion. My mother used to say she knew it was time for the school bus because Butch would park himself by the road and wait for the bus carrying his kids. Butch was Our Gang's dog, Petey.

I don't remember all the spankings I got as a kid, but I do vividly remember the spanking I got when Butch was a puppy and my parents found me using him as a pillow while I watched television. I don't recall the dog minding it that much, but I do recall the lesson that A DOG IS A PERSON AND NOT A PILLOW. And I also recall the lesson that no matter how much we have to sacrifice, you don't leave family, and Butch is family. Butch got heartworms. We were poor, but I don't think my mother could bear the thought of three children losing their dog, so instead of putting him to sleep then or letting the disease take him, she opted to bite the bullet, tighten up the already tight belt just a little more, and try the dangerous procedure that could cure him. She taught us an important lesson. A dog is not a thing. A dog has value. A dog is a member of the family.

A dog is not born being a kid's dog. There is education on both sides. My brother had the quintessential kid's dog in a yellow Labrador Retriever named Beau. He got Beau when he was still single. Baby Beau was a little chick-magnet. After all, who doesn't love a Labrador puppy? But if you've ever seen "Marley and Me" you know how destructive Labrador puppies can be and Beau was a true soulmate of Marley. My brother used to travel a lot and so I babysat Beau quite often. There was no fence high enough to contain him, and once loose, Beau was a one-dog destruction team.

But my brother loved him, and the dog was family. Dumping the dog at a shelter was never an option. It's a wonder Beau survived to adulthood, but when he did, something wonderful happened. Beau grew up to become the perfect dog. Roy got married and had kids of his own, and the dog that in many homes in America would have ended up in the pound, became the perfect kid's dog. That yellow dog was worth his weight in gold. He raised my brother's three little girls as patiently as my brother raised him. Beau more than gave back everything he'd chewed up, dug up, and thrown up. My brother's patience with that destructive puppy was rewarded, and it was a sad day for everyone when the old dog died. My brother has since added a chocolate Labrador to the family because the loss of a good dog leaves a gaping hole and the creation of the perfect dog takes time.

I share this story not so you'll run out and buy a Christmas puppy for your children, but to shine a spotlight on the lessons you are teaching your children now. That wild dog that is currently digging up the back yard can become the perfect dog with some attention and some time. Don't discard that dog in favor of the cute little puppy in the window who will also be digging up the back yard in a year. Don't dump that old dog at the pound to make room for a new shiny puppy. Don't teach your children that dogs are things to be discarded when they misbehave or your life gets busy, or you just want something new. The way you handle that dog today teaches your child important things about life tomorrow.