Responsibility

Responsibility

by Marco M. Pardi

“Today more than ever life must be characterized by a sense of Universal responsibility, not only nation to nation and human to human, but also human to other forms of life.” Dalai Lama A Cry From the Forest. 1987

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Last week I telephoned my dog’s favorite veterinarian and asked him to come to my home, prepared to administer the drugs to end my dog’s life. I will not recount the process which brought us to that point; everyone who has been through this has their own story to tell. I will simply say that he, “Plato”, was nearing fifteen years of age and had developed an incurable and certainly painful and fatal condition. On arrival, the veterinarian, who had cared for Plato for many years and was devoted to him, checked him over and said it was definitely time.

I was sixty three when I adopted Plato from a shelter. He was somewhere over one year old at the time. I knew that the conditions of my life gave greater likelihood to my passing than any accidents or unforeseen health problems would for him. I made arrangements for his care in such a case. But even having had to enact similar end of life scenes with previous dogs, the anticipated years of great companionship outshone that dark cloud I knew could be just over the horizon. He could go before me.

And so, as I sat with him while his breathing eventually stilled, I wondered, despite what my vet friend had told me, if I had done the right thing. If it was definitely time. That night, and the next few days in a cold and empty house I looked back over the years and wondered if I had given him a “full life”, as the trite saying goes. Those years happened to include my relentless advocacy for physician assisted suicide, “death with dignity”, a term many prefer. But I do not recall ever making the connection beyond the many humans I have seen in end of life distress, ever extending it to non-humans. After all, we’ve always had the “right” to end their lives, haven’t we?

When we accept responsibility for a member of a species that, barring other variables, will live a much shorter life than ours we accept the responsibility to ensure their passing is as comfortable as possible. After all, we accept that responsibility in anticipation of the years of companionship, fun, and affection that non-human animal will provide to us. The very least we can do is provide our devotion and commitment at the end.

Looking back, I remember that all my personal dogs were “rescues”, dogs in shelters, with adoption groups, or with people who had puppies to give away. I had no responsibility for them being brought into the world, but I accepted responsibility for them since they were here. I think that matters.

Each and every day about 4,100 dogs and cats are euthanized in shelters in the United States. That is the daily average. Multiply by 365. Some readers may say there are no-kill shelters. That’s true. But it is as often true that some or many of these shelters run out of space and “side door” some of the residents out to shelters with no such policy or to groups which are not well organized to find them homes, putting them back into public shelters where they are lucky to live 72 hours. Anyone experienced in problem management knows it is easy to get lost in dealing with the effects while completely losing sight of the cause or causes. And in this case it is easy to identify and address the causes:

Failure to spay or neuter one’s pets. With the exception of one Samoyed, for whom a litter was recommended before spaying, every one of my cats, dogs, and even horses was spayed or neutered or (in the case of the horses) kept isolated during “heat”. Far too many people project their own sexuality based feelings of “completeness and prowess” onto their companion animals and compound that error by letting them run loose. Contraception – sterilization, in this case – is readily and cheaply available. With millions of dogs and cats being killed yearly there is no need to ensure one’s own dog or cat must be able to reproduce.

Failure to crack down on “puppy mills”. It seems a month doesn’t go by without news coverage of a puppy mill being found in appalling condition, with young females kept in small wire cages awaiting their turn on the “rape stand”. It is not unusual to see a count of over 100 dogs in seriously debilitated condition, several dead or dying, being taken out of these concentration camps. Yet these “business people” pay a fine (a business cost) and are back at it in some other location under a different registration.

And now we are approaching the Christmas season. Television and print media advertisements are already showing young puppies, and some kittens, snuffling around the presents under the tree, even wearing a colorful bow. But the Christmas puppy turns into the Easter chore, and the summer boarding cost at vacation time, and the Thanksgiving nuisance around the laden table. And what will be the Christmas gift this time? These are sentient, feeling beings with as much right to be here as us. But watch what happens at the shelters after the Christmas joy wears off.

I know some people will be irritated by where this piece goes next. But I trust that thus far we, myself and the readers, have felt a certain moral resonance. I cannot contain that resonance; I cannot lay impermeable boundaries around it. My heart and my mind reach out to another Christmas venue: the homes where crawling infants are under foot, the orphanages where children of all ages are warehoused until “placed” – if ever, and the foster homes where children are often acquired simply for the financial benefit derived from State support. I’ve been in these places, especially the homes, countless times in four major metropolitan areas in the United States. I’ve talked with the aging, worn out grandmothers who informed me the mother of the children underfoot was “out runnin’ the streets”.

When I did talk with the mothers, as a federal health officer I was prohibited, under Republican administrations, from even mentioning contraception. But as an assignee to a particular State I was able to get around that, and even hand out condoms. I even had multi-colored condoms to brighten the mood. Sorry ladies, no “lo-cal” condoms.

But moments of humor do not balance lives of misery. Those children would themselves be out “runnin’ the streets”, aging out of orphanages or foster homes, joining gangs in search of the family they never knew. And who among us asks ourselves if we are doing the right thing?

Plato is home now. Actually, he never left. Oh, his body was taken for cremation and returned to me, in a beautiful hand carved rosewood urn. He’s probably figuring how to get out of this box.

His “mommy” is now home, back from her ten day vacation in Costa Rica. We haven’t talked about it.

I still glance at the lower right corner of my monitor to see if it’s time to take him for a walk or prepare his warm meals. I listen for his breathing from the corner of this room where he snoozes and coaches me on writing style.

On the day he was carried out I went through the house picking up his toys, cookies he had hidden for later, his parka and raincoat, leash and harness, and his dinner bowls. His parka is washed, and with everything else is in the basement, where his “mommy” never goes.

Some day I will go to the shelters and an older dog will recognize me. A dog who has been passed over many times. There will almost certainly be disagreement at home. But I probably don’t have very many years left. Loneliness kills. And that’s as true for a dog in a cage as it is for me. Not living by one’s morals, not being Responsible, is just as deadly.