I admit it, it’s nothing to be proud of, I know. Try not to judge me too harshly, I was a product of my own narrow experience. I used to be a bigot, my view tainted by prejudice. Yes, it’s true: I once absolutely despised dogs.

Blame it on the fact that my parents, when I was living at home, had a medium-sized yapper that they failed to discipline. Any time it saw me entering or leaving the house it would go berserk, barking and trying to bite me. They did nothing to curb this behavior, so of course it continued. When my parents weren’t home it was utterly docile, and I disdained the ankle-biter as an abject coward. Similar experiences with others of the species finally turned me off canines altogether. A neighbor’s dog bit me, and my brother-in-law had a vicious German Shepherd mix that couldn’t be trusted and eventually mauled a child. Who needed these four-legged monsters or their obnoxious barking?

Anyway, my attitude was ultimately changed by meeting a few better representatives of the canis lupus familiaris family. One of these was a scary-looking, sweet-natured Rottweiler named Sadie who was diabetic. Another was an energetic little terrier of some sort who would not only catch a thrown tennis ball, but throw it back with a flick of his head. Then there was Rex, an aged black Lab who despite his evident weariness and chronic pain always rushed to meet a friend, if only to end up leaning against their leg for support. Good dogs all. I know now that pets are invariably influenced by their keepers, which in each case excuses those dogs I abhorred in my intolerant days.

I’ve never been a dog person myself, but I’m not insensitive to the need for animal companionship. I used to share my life with a devastatingly handsome tabby cat named Nonamé (pronounced no-nahm-ee). The scrawled name tag on his cage at the kennel where we met appeared to read “No Name.” Obviously this couldn’t be right, so I interpreted it to our mutual satisfaction. I didn’t have him as one “has” a pet dog, and I certainly didn’t own him. Nobody “owns” a cat.

Nonamé was my friend. When he didn’t sleep on the pillow beside my  head, he occupied the recliner atop my cast-off clothes. If I was depressed or ill he would make obvious efforts to comfort me. He liked white rice. He complained if I was gone many days in a row. Anyone who says cats don’t care about their human counterparts is simply wrong. We were together for something like eighteen years. I loved that cat and he loved me, and I can say this with unshakeable certainty.

I can’t have an animal companion today. I would never subject an animal to the life I’m living. The homeless people I’ve observed that keep animals generally tend toward dogs, of course, though I’ve seen a few with cats. No doubt some are conscientious wardens of their mascots, but I can’t say I approve of this arrangement. It’s almost as bad as forcing a child into that existence. I can miss a meal and suffer the instability of homelessness, but have no right to impose it on a dependent. Nor do I want the responsibility, which too many people, housed and otherwise, evidently don’t know exists.

I’m sure it happens, but I don’t recall ever seeing a homeless person pick up after their dog. But the more respectable citizenry aren’t appreciably better about it. Every city-park sports field in Prescott prohibits dogs, but this means nothing to the rude and selfish who treat these fenced, grassy areas as public-access dog runs. The dogs, free at last, frolic and rejoice and generously fertilize the lawn with doggie bombs. No one makes any effort to clean this up. The area is too large and off-limits to begin with, so why bother? A dog is going to do what a dog does, and because dogs can’t read it isn’t their fault, but this is small consolation when kids show up twenty minutes later to roll in the grass playing Frisbee or soccer.

An animal comrade can be a significant part of one’s life, but that camaraderie carries with it responsibility, both to the animal and the public. The trust and love of an animal is a rare thing. Be worthy of it.