The original natural family living magazine, founded in 1976. Reader-supported
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to high cost, high consumption lifestyles for themselves and their families.
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from Natural Life Magazine,
January/February 2009 Throughout my childhood, my family had a constant supply of canines. There were Amigo, Caesar, Bruno, Tyrone, Skippy, Minnie and Calamity. Sadly, many of them were re-homed due to poor or non-existent training. My mother likely felt victorious once she had her four children fed, dressed and out the door for school; the next item on her list of things to do didn’t involve training the dog. Now I’m a mother and understand better the severe time restrictions in a day. But I also knew it was simply a matter of time before one of my kids asked for a dog. How could I possibly say no when I’m convinced that loving my dogs helped to sustain me through the often difficult stages of childhood and adolescence? My children were nine, seven and five when the request came. By that time I had lived for 15 years without a canine companion and had become used to the freedom of extending my daily outings to whatever length I chose. Despite the many rewards of dog ownership, I knew it also had its challenges. All the dogs in my life had been the responsibility of someone else – namely my mother. Now I was the mother who would be further burdened by having something else to care for.
Nevertheless, with my fond childhood memories of furry beasts still intact, I persuaded my husband to take the leap. A niggling voice in the back of my mind asked me how owning a dog would challenge my environmental principles. I tried to ignore it. On November 2nd, 2007, our golden retriever puppy Chinook arrived. And while I felt guilty about not rescuing a dog from the pound, I thrilled at the sight of my children with a puppy. “It’s the one dog childhood,” I told my friends, knowing that if we got a good 12 years of furry companionship, then my work would be done. I don’t think I quite understood how dog ownership has changed since I was a child. There are approximately six million dogs in Canada and 70 million dogs in the United States. These dogs not only eat and excrete, but also require medical services and other supplies. Some dogs now sport booties, designer clothes and sunglasses. Doggie day cares and spas have a steady clientele; some even have waiting lists. Veterinarian visits for the slightest ailment are routine. Not surprisingly, therefore, pet insurance is a thriving business. Grooming boutiques dot the strip-malled landscapes. Bottled water aimed specifically for dogs can be purchased in a variety of flavors like chicken and beef. Needless to say, today’s pampered beasts, with the help of their owners, are leaving large carbon pawprints on the environment. When our dog arrived, I faced two immediate challenges to my environmental principles, namely: What about our vegetarian lifestyle, and how was I to ethically deal with our dog’s waste disposal? Vegetarianism My family is vegetarian; it’s been over two decades since my dollars were spent supporting the meat industry. Did having a dog mean buying meat in the form of dried kibble? If I could find an extra 60 dollars a month to feed my dog, why not give it to a homeless shelter or support a soup kitchen? When I took my children to a “healthy” pet store to check out its supplies in anticipation of our dog’s arrival, I was surprised to find customers buying bison burgers and other forms of meat for their dogs’ “raw food” diet. Didn’t dogs just eat scraps anymore? . . . To read the rest of this article, including instructions for building a dog waste composter, subscribe to Natural Life's online edition. Theresa Shea is a homeschooling mother of three children who are enjoying their “one dog childhood” in Edmonton, Alberta. She is currently working on a book about sustainable parenting. You can get in touch with her through Natural Life's editor. |
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