Man’s Best Friend

Again, sorry for the wait on a new blog. A lot of stuff has happened (all good) but here is a blog I’ve been meaning to post for the longest time:

I’ve never had a dog of my own and the ones who have seen me post pictures of a Great Dane and calling it “my dog” will call me a liar. The reason why I don’t count that is because the dog belongs to my big sister who has 2 other Great Danes and pays for their food as well as medical bills, whereas I have bought them food a few times, fed them at times and play with them (thus, I don’t technically have the right to say they’re fully my dogs). But because I’d rather not keep calling this one particular dog of the three, “My sister’s dog” (for the sake of the blog) I’m going to refer to him as my own.

This dog is a black and white (bearing similar features to that of a Dalmation) with loving blue eyes and stands at a good 2-3-feet tall on his 4 legs. His name is Moose and is about 10 years old making him about 70 in human years. When my sister first got him, he was very small but the reputations for Great Danes is that they grow massive in size, which he did in the weeks/months to come, since then he’s remained the same size; Ironically, he still thinks of himself as a puppy cause the poor guy doesn’t realize how strong he is.
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I didn’t realize how important Moose was to me or really, how important I was to him until after I came back from University and I woke up to him sleeping beneath me in my bed. I had almost forgotten before I moved away how much time he’d spend with me like when I’d do homework in my room, I’d turn around to see him sleeping on the floor just waiting for me to get done so I could pet him and show him some attention.

A year or two later, after my sister got married and went to Paris for a week and I house-sat for her and hadn’t seen the dogs in a while but during that time, I was in my own little world but I was still spending time with the dogs here and of course, giving Moose the special attention. When my sister came back, she said that Moose kept going in my room and scratching at the door and just looked sad whenever he realized I wasn’t in there. When I finally came back home and moved back in with my sister, of course Moose and I were much closer and I wouldn’t stop taking pictures of him to show to the world. I considered this dog as if he were my own child (much to the jealousy of the other dogs, whom I tried to show love to as well but, somehow I think they knew that Moose was my favorite).

Unfortunately, his back legs don’t work as well as they used to due to some nerve damage but he still walks cause he’s a trooper, plus I talk to him as if I am a stern, but loving, parent so he walks as if to show me, “Look Papa, I can do it!” But I understand he’s getting old, which is why I’m trying to spend as much time with him as possible before his time comes cause I know he won’t live forever but the fact that he’s still going now, is an opportunity that I’m going to take advantage of.

My whole reason for talking about Moose is to pretty much bring to the attention of Animal’s rights because a lot of people tend to think of Animals as simply just objects for us to kill for sport and/or eat. I eat meat as well so I’m not going to say how we should all be vegetarians or whatever cause I am mainly talking about Cat’s and Dog’s and other domestic pets. When one says that Animal’s have rights, there’s always one joker at the other end of the spectrum that says, “OH! So, Animals should be able to vote?” And to that you should always say, “Yes, dumbass. Why not?” Of course, Animals can’t speak and can’t know what’s best for us so that would be ridiculous. When one says “Animals have rights” they mean that they shouldn’t be disregarded. An animal may not be able to speak but it has some way of communicating with another animal or at least even has a personality. There’s a philosophical thought that if a fish could talk to us, would we still be able to eat it? Luckily, I don’t eat it to begin with so I’m scot-free, but if I did, I couldn’t look at a fish the same way.

An animal can feel pain, just like us so in a way they are like us. We can’t deny that our characteristics make us like them either. Like when we sit in traffic, sometimes our primal instincts of frustration start to arise and we say shit we don’t mean. We are all creatures that dwell within this planet and struggle to survive (we just so happen to not be a part of the food chain)  regardless, an animal’s life should matter, that’s why I don’t get people who hunt (unless you know, for food or whatever but not sport).

Going back to pets however, if a dog has personality and is considered, “Man’s Best Friend”, certainly they should be treated with respect. And there are those who argue that a dog’s love is not always loyal to it’s owner and can love someone else just as easily. The argument for that can also be applied to humans and anyone whose ever been to a bar and made friends with people who offer to buy you a round of shots or a drink, will know what I’m talking about. Thus our loyalty can also be questioned and again, brings me back to my point that we are animals in a way ourselves.

The point I’m trying to make is that animals should definitely have certain rights (not the same as Humans) but at least give the animal or pet the dignity it deserves.

I just read the last sentence and it sounds like I’m preaching. I’m not trying to preach (haha). I’m going to stop now before I get carried away. I believe I’ve made my point clear enough.  Thank you for reading and I hope you guys continue to read. 🙂

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-Mr. Writer

Originally written on the 4th of August, 2015 at 10:08 P.M. 

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