Fulfilling Our Dogs, Fulfilling Ourselves

Though it may be a blow to our oversize human egos, the truth of the matter is, we need dogs more than they need us. If humans were to disappear from the face of the earth tomorrow, dogs would manage to survive. They would follow their genetic blueprints and form packs, in much the same way their wolf relatives still do. They would return to hunting and would establish territories. They would continue to raise their pups very much as they do today. In many ways, they might be happier. Dogs don’t need human beings to be balanced. In fact, most of the difficulties and instabilities domestic dogs suffer arise from their being in unnatural situations, living with us behind walls, in this modern, industrialized world.

I’ve said before that dogs are from Pluto and human beings are from Saturn. It’s more accurate to say that dogs are from Earth—and humans are from outer space. In so many ways, we humans are different from every other being that shares this planet with us. We have the power to rationalize, which includes the power to fool ourselves. That’s what we do when we humanize animals. We project our own images on to them in order to make ourselves feel better. In doing so, not only do we harm to those animals, but we also distance ourselves even further from the natural world in which they exist.

What we seem to forget is that we still have access to the very same world they inhabit. That’s why indigenous peoples in the deserts, in the mountains, in the forests, and in the jungles are able to survive there for generation after generation. They are Homo sapiens, just as we are, yet they are fully in tune with their animal natures. They live comfortably in both worlds. Here, in “civilization,” we have detached ourselves from that natural world by defining ourselves exclusively as the superior species, the species that creates, the species that develops. We continue to kill off that better, more natural side of ourselves when we become the species that destroys whole ecosystems for the benefit of money. No other species destroys Mother Nature the way we do. Only humans do that.

Yet no matter how much we ravage the earth, our animal natures yearn to be fulfilled. Why do you think we plant trees along the freeways? Why do we put waterfalls in the lobbies of high rises? Why do we decorate the walls of our homes with paintings of landscapes? Even the tiniest inner-city apartments often have window boxes with plants in them. We’ll spend a year’s worth of savings just to take a one-week, sanity-saving vacation by the ocean, by the lake, by the mountains. That’s because, without some connection with Mother Nature, we feel isolated. Our world feels cold. We feel unbalanced. We die inside.

In America and in some other cultures of the world, dogs and the other animals we bring into our homes serve as one of our most important links to Mother Nature. We may not even know it consciously, but they are our lifelines to a part of ourselves that we are at the brink of losing altogether. When we humanize dogs, we cut ourselves off from the vital lessons they have been put here to teach us: How to experience the world through the truths of our animal instincts. How to live every moment and every day to the fullest.

When we take dogs into our homes, it’s our responsibility to fulfill their instinctual needs, so that they can achieve balance. Dogs don’t care about doing tricks, they don’t care about winning trophies, they don’t care if their collars have “bling.” They don’t care if you live in a big house or even if you have a job. They care about other things…like the solidarity of the pack…like bonding with their pack leaders during migration…like exploring their world…like living in the simple joy of a single moment. If you fulfill your dog in these ways—by giving him exercise, discipline, and affection, in that order—your dog will happily and willingly return the favor. You will witness the miracle of two very different species communicating and bonding with each other in ways you never thought possible. You will achieve in your relationship with your dog the kind of deep connection you always dreamed of having.

I sincerely hope that, with this book, I have helped you find a place to begin in your quest for a better, healthier relationship with the dogs in your life.

The golden light of magic hour begins to descend on this deserted Southern California beach as I leap into the middle of a shallow wave and throw a tennis ball with all my might. Yelping with joy, every dog in the pack bounds after it, competing to be the one that gets to bring it back to me—but never fighting with one another for its possession. Anyone who knows dogs knows what a miracle this is—but I’m a good pack leader and they’re good followers. The rules are the rules, and everybody knows it. Carlitos, a three-legged pit bull, gets the prize this time, a testament to his sheer determination. The others bark after him as he hobbles back to me, dropping the soggy ball into my hand and looking at me with utter bliss in his eyes. I rub his head, then run back to the shore and throw the ball again. The dogs leap back into the surf. For a moment, I’m feeling what they’re feeling—the cool, salty sea on my skin, the thousands of coastal scents in my nostrils, the soothing rush of the surf in my ears. I’m feeling all the pure joy of this one fleeting moment, and I owe them for that. I owe them everything.

The sun is red on the rim of the Pacific as we trudge up the rocky path back to the van. We’re all exhausted but happy. Tonight, all forty plus dogs at the Center will sleep soundly. I’ll sleep well, too, knowing that I’ve helped fulfill their lives—just as they have already succeeded in fulfilling mine.