Have you ever observed pets in a situation that made you seriously wonder how the humans involved could possibly have let it happen? For me, the epicenter of such stupidity is any small space with more than one pet in it, especially when the pets don’t know each other.
It’s your vet’s waiting room.
There are sick pets here, people. Why are you letting your animal walk right up to everyone? Why are you allowing your children to do exactly the same thing?
There are frightened pets here, too—some injured. Most have sharp teeth, many have sharp claws. There are frightened people, too, worried and impatient to be seen.
Into that volatile atmosphere, three unrelated owners arrive nearly simultaneously. They brought their dogs to the clinic on retractable leashes. Within minutes, the lines of those leashes have been woven into a nice tight braid! Three dogs who don’t know each other, forced into close physical proximity, in a small space they weren’t comfortable with in the first place—and they can’t get away!
We don’t let the cats out of their carriers right this second. We don’t put the chihuahuas on the floor in front of the grumbling mastiff. We don’t tell the children to go cheer up the hurting heeler.
We don’t, if we’ve got a grain of sense, walk in with our pet to this chaotic situation.
Which can happen at any time. It’s completely unpredictable.
That’s why when we visit the vet—every time!—we leave our pet safely secured in our car while we check in. We ask the staff to let us know when the veterinarian is ready to see us.
After we’re called, we maneuver our pet carefully past the frenzy in the waiting room, blocking our dog from any physical contact with anyone but us, leading him with a treat, her with a toy, doing whatever it takes to get to that exam room without incident.
Our cat, our ferret, or our bird stays in its covered carrier, held up high enough to avoid both children’s hands and other animals’ snouts, until we get into that room and the door is safely shut.
Veterinary waiting rooms are not singles bars for pets, not socialization opportunities for feral little Fritz or Fritzie who’s never been inside a building before, and not somewhere to take your children that’s like a petting zoo but cleaner.
Veterinary clinics should be a safe place for everyone, pets and humans alike.
Photo by Jamie Wilke
Pick Up the Poop
Other pet peeves (mine, at least) are rarely about the pets. Mine are almost always about the owners, inside or outside of a vet’s office waiting room.
Too often, they make their pets look bad. They make themselves look stupid.
(I’m not saying they are stupid. I’m saying they look stupid.)
Say your dog poops on my lawn. You wait for him to finish and start to move on. Then you spot me watching from my porch.
The excuses begin.
I realize it is possible that you simply forgot poop bags.
I do not believe it when you say you’ll get one and come back.
You chose to walk your dog so that the dog could poop.
You made that choice and yet you brought no bags with you.
You let your dog poop on my lawn and now you’ll walk away.
I don’t expect you’ll come back with a bag. No one ever does.
I’ll clean it up myself because I don’t want dog poop on my lawn.
It’s your total inability to deal with the reality of your own dog’s poop that makes you look stupid. And thoughtless, and ignorant, and entitled, and unprepared.
Dogs poop. Carry bags.
I read a post on social media the other day in which someone from my city was complaining about people who don’t pick up the poop when they’re walking their dogs. One commenter estimated that 40% of people walking dogs locally don’t pick up the poop!
I thought that estimate was rather high, but I’ll readily admit I could be wrong. If I am wrong, that means nearly half the dog walkers in my city are thoughtless jerks . . . at least about poop.
If they’re thoughtless about poop, imagine what they’re like dealing with the rest of their pets’ lives, not to mention the rest of their own lives. It’s frightening!
Police the Pee
I am not impressed with dog owners who blithely allow their dogs to urinate on private property either, when there’s really no need. Why should your dog lift his leg on the landscaping a few feet from your friend’s front door? Is a yellow lawn or dead foliage a true sign of your friendship?
I’d suggest that a surer sign would be for you to use your leash to guide your dog to an appropriate potty spot, like the park across the street or maybe even your own yard. You want your friend to remember the visit when your dog killed her favorite flowers because you think he should pee where he wants?
Halt the Humping
Other pet peeves of mine include allowing—even encouraging—your dog to approach other dogs in an unacceptable manner.
“Unacceptable” includes any approach to a dog your dog doesn’t know, as well as “rude” approaches even to dogs your dog does know.
That includes humping.
Humping is never an acceptable behavior to allow (or to encourage!) your dog to perform on a dog he (or she!) doesn’t know. How could you think it would be?
Yes, humping another dog is “natural” behavior, but so is biting another dog hard enough to break the skin. You don’t allow that, do you? Humping is not something you allow your dog to do because you think it makes him feel good.
Your dog is on leash? You can prevent humping—just call your dog.
Your dog is not on leash? I have to ask why he’s not, if you can’t control him.
Pet Peeves with Other Pets
Dogs are not the only companion animals whose owners can make them look bad, although dogs certainly suffer more public humiliation than most other pets since they’re out and about more often.
I have sympathy, too, for cats who, once they’re let outside, may not be safe.
Neighbors can enable the inadvertent corruption of formerly innocent felines.
That happened on my block when one family decided to add a common feature to their tiny front yard. It looks like a bird feeder but, placed where it is at the edge of their lawn, it’s become instead a take-out diner. Several outdoor cats regularly lurk nearby to await the few birds and many squirrels that drop in for some seed. One cat often lies under a parked car or lounges in the middle of the street, as if asking to be run over. It’s a death trap, that bird feeder, and the small birds stay away.
The poorly placed bird feeder attracts all the wrong sorts of wildlife, including the gangs of wild turkeys that roam our neighborhood, living off pet food left outside and (you guessed it) bird seed. These turkeys are not particularly clean in their personal habits, and they’re certainly not friendly. They’re not afraid to run at local dogs out on walks with their humans, and they’ve been known to peck small children. Worse yet, they’re excellent meals for coyotes. (Yes, we’ve got coyotes here, too.)
The family who lives in the home never stopped to think, it seems, what a poorly placed feeder could do to our neighborhood’s ecology, nor how the feeder’s visitors would leave behind so much disgusting detritus . . . which the family’s grandchildren are now playing in. I’m sure they had in mind instead the entertainment value of watching wildlife out their front window.
The rest of the block sees little value there. We see an ugly trap. We worry for the animals who suffer because of it, including us.
What’s the most common factor in the poor decisions of people who make their pets look bad? I’d say it’s thoughtlessness. The neighbors didn’t purposefully endanger the lives of animals in my neighborhood by placing a bird feeder in their front yard. That wasn’t their goal. They failed to think it through, certainly. They also failed to act accordingly when they saw cats display perfectly normal predatory behavior that put more than one of their lives at risk.
Well-meaning people can act like fools when they’re worried about sick or injured pets (as in the vet-clinic waiting room scenario), but what’s the excuse for folks there just for their dog’s yearly shots or their cat’s healthy-pet check up? Ignorance, in some cases; inexperience in others.
For those who are neither ignorant nor inexperienced, I’d cite far too often a total lack of focus on the possible needs of others, human or animal. Or an absence of concern about those needs, even if one can theoretically focus on them. That’s the “only me and my pet count” attitude.
Is there an adequate excuse for allowing (or encouraging) your pet to eliminate on the private property of your friends and neighbors, even of total strangers? Certainly you know better, don’t you? Why would anyone want your pet to do that? Except you, we have to guess, for your own convenience. Or is it because you’re happy to display your lack of respect for what others choose to love?
You decide. You can be a responsible, thoughtful, decent dog owner. Don’t let your dog do to other dogs what you wouldn’t want done to him, don’t let your dog to do other lawns what you wouldn’t want done to yours.
You can be a good neighbor and you can be a good pet owner. You can make your pet a part of your positive relationship with the people and pets around you. It’s your choice!
