I had a dog back in the ’80s. Her name was Daisy, a delightful mix of Border Collie and who-knows-what. I adored her. Being an only child, she was not just a pet; she was my confidante and sister.
Here’s what I remember about those carefree days:
- During the summer, my parents would let her roam free after breakfast, and she would explore the neighborhood until dinner.
- Every now and then, I’d catch a glimpse of her sneaking out of the bushes after chasing a flock of ducks.
- She loved to swim in the stream behind our house.
- The mail truck and the neighbor’s camper were her nemeses.
- By 6:00, she was at the door, ready for her Alpo dinner.
- My parents would let her out before bed to “take care of business.”
- I never picked up any poop—and oddly enough, I don’t recall ever seeing any.
- She visited the vet maybe six times during her 14 years with us.
- We often rode together in the back of my dad’s pickup truck.
That was life with a dog in the ’80s. Just as parenting has evolved, so has dog ownership. I have a dog now, and I experience this transformation daily.
Before adopting my dog, Coco, I was aware that things had changed. I knew about leash laws and pooper-scooper regulations, but I didn’t expect the depth of responsibility that came with caring for a dog today. At Coco’s first check-up, the veterinarian examined her ears and teeth, then proceeded to ask a barrage of questions about her emotional and psychological well-being. Had she been socialized? Did she get along with big dogs, little dogs, and even children? How did she react to various situations? Did she have any fears or anxieties?
“Well, she does seem a bit paranoid about the vacuum cleaner,” I replied.
“It’s essential to distinguish between your fears and hers. Dogs can sense your anxiety,” the vet advised.
I’m anxious about plenty of things, but not the vacuum! I already worry about my kids; now I was supposed to fret over my dog’s mental health too? I enrolled Coco in puppy kindergarten, hoping to teach her to 1) stop nipping and 2) not to do her business indoors. The instructor had loftier ambitions: she aimed for dogs to be harmonious members of society, emphasizing agility, obedience, and manners.
She told us that if our dog brought us a toy, we should ignore it. “Playtime is on your terms now!” What? Seriously?
We were encouraged to make our own dog treats to avoid excessive sodium. “Store-bought snacks are unhealthy!” she warned.
Each week, I brought Coco to class, but more often than not, she would run to the center of the room and, yes, poop. Other owners would smirk as I cleaned up after her: “Oh, she’ll learn.” I could feel their competitive spirits.
“Oh, Max has been house-trained for weeks.”
“Bella never bites.”
“We only feed Rocky organic raw food.”
And let’s not forget the fact that I’m now constantly carrying a bag of dog waste. I once asked my mom, “Where did Daisy poop?” She paused, then said, “I don’t know.”
“Right?” I replied. “Did you ever see any poop in our yard?”
“No,” she shook her head. “I didn’t.”
So we had a dog for 14 years, and yet, no poop in our yard or on the street. It was as if some magical poop fairy existed! Those were the days of innocence, where dog waste vanished into thin air.
I’ve also learned about canine car safety. Apparently, Coco can’t sit in the front seat. “What if the airbag deploys?” a stranger admonished me one day. I cringed, realizing my oversight.
Coco loves to swim, but we discovered she struggles when jumping into deep water. Last summer, she leaped into the neighbor’s pool and started to sink. Thankfully, we jumped in and saved her. Now she wears a life vest when swimming. I even bought her a kiddie pool after the vet warned about overheating in summer.
Coco has developed several allergies, which the vet claimed are becoming increasingly common. She now eats a gluten-free diet that includes New Zealand venison, and I wash her blankets with fragrance-free detergent. Her organic shampoo costs more than mine.
One December, I called the vet because Coco was throwing up and refusing to eat. They suggested she was simply stressed by the holiday commotion. Join the club.
To curb her barking, we tried a collar that sprayed citronella whenever she barked. It worked wonders—until she fell asleep, snored, and triggered the spray. We decided it was better to have a barking dog than one that couldn’t sleep.
The vet recommended a luxe Italian leather collar for her irritated neck. Now Coco has a collar fancier than any belt I own. We even bought her winter booties to protect her paws from salt and ice. We struggled to fit four tiny boots on a wiggly pug, but we tried. Who have I become?
I find myself nostalgic for the days of letting Daisy roam free in the neighborhood. I wonder if Coco feels deprived. Is she exhausted from all the training and supervision? Does she long for the simpler days of dog ownership in the ’80s, or am I just projecting my own longings onto her?
In conclusion, dog ownership has transformed dramatically since the ’80s. Today, we juggle health, safety, and emotional well-being, turning our furry friends into cherished family members with needs that extend beyond basic care.
Keyphrase: Dog Ownership Evolution
Tags: home insemination kit, home insemination syringe, self insemination