When I moved out of my parents' house 20-plus years ago, the first thing I wanted was a dog of my own. A friend had an adorable sheltie I liked, so I went on a search for a dog like her Misty.
The pup I found was born on a cold kitchen floor in the middle of the night, to a dog whose owners were sure she was not pregnant. Two of three puppies were dead by the time the owners realized their error. The single pup thrived, though. And after he was weaned, he was sent to his father's owners to be socialized among another litter of puppies.
He was 10 weeks old when I met him there; I was 20 years old. I had no business getting a dog, but I wrote the woman two checks -- one of them postdated, I was that broke -- and took home the dog I named Lance. With what I know now, I can say I was a high risk as a dog owner, enough that the person I am now would under no circumstances have sold a dog to the person I was then. But maybe the seller saw something special in me. Or maybe she just wanted to get rid of the pup.
Young Lance and I did not get off to the best of starts. I was living in a place that did not allow dogs, and my roommate didn't want one. Within days, the pup and I were homeless. To my credit, I never once thought of giving him up.
We kicked around a lot -- one set of roommates, then another, some time with my grandmother, then more roommates. I took the dog everywhere I could (and a lot of places I shouldn't have), and trained him myself for the obedience ring in the gaps between classes when I probably ought to have been studying. And I partied, traveled, stayed up all night sometimes and slept until noon on the weekends.
All the changes we went through and all the unpredictability of my daily life had an effect on the dog Lance would become. He was comfortable with all kinds of people and all kinds of places. He'd seen it all; nothing shook his calm. He was a perfect dog, or as close as any living being can get to perfection.
When I think about Lance now, though, I think about how different things were then. My life now is settled, predictable and mortgage-paying. I still sleep until noon on a lot of weekends, but that's about all that hasn't changed.
Which is why, in a very roundabout way, I've come to be certain that I would never have the slightest interest in cloning a pet. Yes, I understand how much it hurts to lose a loved one, and how tempting it would be to cheat death, in a way, by reproducing exactly the raw material that became a special pet.
Lance has been dead 11 years in May, and I still miss him. No other pet has taught me so much -- about the special bond between an animal and a person, about the joy and the responsibility of caring for a pet. But a Lance clone would never be Lance. What made him the dog he became was not only his early hardship, but also getting hooked up with the person I was then and cannot be again.
The last thing Lance taught me was that letting go is possible, that death is a natural part of our lives, and that we need to learn to deal with it as gracefully as we can. Yes, it hurts, but it is a survivable pain. And in the end, the memories that hurt you when the loss is fresh become a source of joy when enough time passes.
My memories of Lance have long been happy ones. I would not want to diminish them by denying a special dog his wholly unique and everlasting place in my heart.
PETS ON THE WEB
My friends at the Veterinary Information Network run the world's first and largest online service for veterinary professionals, a subscription Web site with more than 6,000 veterinary clients. VIN recently expanded to offer a free Web site to pet lovers, the Pet Care Forum (www.vin.com/petcare). VIN's Pet Care Forum has veterinarians on staff to answer questions, tons of basic information on pet selection and care, and chats and message boards for talking to like-minded animal lovers.
The site requires a simple registration to access the interactive features -- an attempt to control people bent on disruption -- but it is easy to navigate once you're set up.
In the interests of full disclosure, I should mention that although I once worked for VIN, I have no financial dealings with the company now. However, its CEO, Dr. Paul Pion, is my co-author of "Cats for Dummies." Just having to put in such a disclaimer made me think twice about mentioning the site, but I believe it's one that pet lovers need to check out.
THE SCOOP
Just as more people are interested in alternative medicine for themselves, there's a jump in interest in such care for pets. "Alternative" can mean a lot of different regimens, from raw-food diets to chiropractics to homeopathy and more. There's a lot to learn, that's for sure! Two publications do a nice job of exploring these topics, and I've been enjoying them both for the last few issues. The Whole Cat Journal and The Whole Dog Journal cover "natural" care and training, with an interesting and wide-ranging array of articles in every issue. Book reviews and product comparisons round out the mix.
I'm not ready -- nor will I ever be -- to give up traditional veterinary care, but I know there's a lot out there we don't understand. It's good to find people who are looking hard for answers on behalf of their pets. The monthly publications are $27 each annually. You can order the cat newsletter from P.O. Box 420940, Palm Coast, FL 32142. The dog newsletter must be ordered from P.O. Box 420031 (but everything else is the same as the cat newsletter address).
QUESTIONS FROM THE PACK
Q: I was so glad to see the plastic bag pooper-scooper bit in your column, but was a little disappointed that you didn't advise the dog walkers how to use the bags. I put my hand in the bag, pick up the goodies, and then turn the bag inside out. Voila!
The TV show "60 Minutes" did a piece on actor Kevin Spacey recently and showed him walking his two dogs in a New York City park. I felt embarrassed for the poor man because they left the camera on him as he was clumsily trying to wipe up poop with a newspaper. Then he actually shoved it in his pocket! Let him know about this bag trick, if possible. -- C.A., via e-mail
A: You're absolutely right. Using the bag like a glove and then flipping it so the mess is inside it is the easy, no-fuss way to pick up after a pet. Your hand never touches anything objectionable and the mess is sealed inside, ready to put into a nearby trash can.
You can always tell a responsible dog-lover: The pockets of all their jackets have plastic bags in them!
As for Mr. Spacey and his dogs, I got the sense that he's someone who's not used to cleaning up after them at all. People who do it all the time never even give it a second thought, camera or no camera.
I've been in Manhattan plenty, and that's where I learned the art of "bagging it." You can't miss getting an impassioned tutorial on the street if you don't pick up after your dog there. Maybe the actor has a dog walker usually, or maybe he's successful enough now not to worry about the $100 fine for not cleaning up after your dog. But maybe before he takes out his dogs in a camera crew's presence again, he'll pack some plastic.
Q: Your item about using OrangeMate Mist might easily be misconstrued because you didn't explain how to use it. I showed the item to a neighbor who has two retrievers, and she assumed she is supposed to spray her dogs with the product to rid them of wet-dog odor. Is that what you intended? -- F.D., via e-mail
A: Not at all. OrangeMate Mist, the wonderful wet-dog odor neutralizer, should be sprayed in a room, but not on the dogs.
Remember, too, that you must exercise extreme caution when using any aerosol or cleaning product around birds. Their lungs are so sensitive that exposure to airborne chemicals can kill them. Don't use strong-smelling products at all around these pets.
Gina Spadafori is the award-winning author of "Dogs for Dummies," "Cats for Dummies" and "Birds for Dummies." She is also affiliated with the Veterinary Information Network Inc., an international online service for veterinary professionals. Write to her in care of this newspaper, or send e-mail to writetogina(at)spadafori.com.
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