Mandy had a lot of firsts. She was the first dog my parents ever owned that was purchased. My brother bought her for my dad when both my parents had been retired for some years. She was the first dog my parents ever let into their home. She was the first dog my dad had ever taken to a vet. When she was five, I got her from my parents. She was my first dog as an adult. She was the first (and last) dog I bred, and I kept one of her puppies. At 15, Mandy died in her kennel of natural causes. She hadnât suffered a bit.
Just a year or two later, her puppy was the first dog I had to euthanize. He had a limp in his front right leg, and I took him to the vet. The vet conducted an examination, including x-rays, but couldnât identify the problem. During a business trip the following week, the vet left a message for me to call. The shoulder x-ray had incidentally included part of the lung, and it was filled with cancer. After a brief conversation, the vet informed me that I would need to put my dog down before he suffered. To my relief, he mentioned they could euthanize my dog with a shot. Throughout my life, putting a dog down meant digging a grave, calling the dog, shooting him, and burying him. This wasnât just my familyâs experience; it was how everyone did it.
A couple of months ago, I had dinner with an high school friend. His family ranched, and he has always had a Blue Heeler (Australian Cattle Dog). We got talking about our dogs, and he indicated that, like me, he couldnât put his dog down (versus taking them to the vet). With great respect, we discussed our tough fathers.
Tough means the ability to do the right thing even when it is very difficult. It is much less difficult to have the vet put the dog down, and I doubt this has much to do with the shot being more humane. Yes, I would prefer the vet to use a shot versus a rifle, but the fact is that it would be very difficult for me to use either.
As I watch the hysterics about Kristi Noemâs putting her dog down, I canât help but think our society is upside down and over-pampered. They seem to think that because they could never put their pet down, anyone that does must be cruel. They never look at themselves to understand whether they could do anything that is right but difficult. Would they keep their dog suffering for a week until the vet was available and think it was humane? I think I know the answer. I watch people that will let their dog suffer for weeks because they cannot even bring themselves to take it to the vet to be euthanized, and they rationalize it because they love their pet. It is out of this love that they will let their pet suffer. They will let their dog attack other dogs or people and do nothing. That is called weak and cruel.
I have dogs that are pets and also enjoy hunting. My father had a dog to hunt. My father hunted to put food on the table. I spent around 6 grand last year on my two dogs, roughly 10 percent of the median income. I donât wonder if my father and everyone I knew growing up were cruel or inhumane; I wonder if I am.
I donât question whether the folks of my youth could sit on a jury and do the right thing. I question whether I could sit on a jury and do the right thing when there are threatening protests outside the courtroom.
I wonder how many of these people clutching their pearls today will walk right by a real human laying in the gutter tomorrow? How many will drive by a broken-down vehicle? A person walking down the road? How many will watch a person get mugged or beaten?
I guess I knew the answer to these questions about the same time I took that first dog to the vet to be euthanized. Around that time, I broke down a mile from town in the dead of winter. I walked that mile as car after car passed me. I remember thinking, I ainât in South Dakota no more. Not one of those folks that put down their dog ever drove by a person walking on the road in the dead of winter.