For the record, many marriages in the military are financial arrangements and nothing more.
Maybe we (pet owners) need dogs just as they need us. A lot of people have the innate drive to feel and care for or about someone or something. Even if a pet were a completely self interested, strictly self driven animal it would still be fulfilling a role in the life of the pet owner, right?
I’ve never owned a dog but from my experiences they are more loyal than any woman could be.
[quote]SkyzykS wrote:
Maybe we (pet owners) need dogs just as they need us. A lot of people have the innate drive to feel and care for or about someone or something. Even if a pet were a completely self interested, strictly self driven animal it would still be fulfilling a role in the life of the pet owner, right?
[/quote]
yes
[quote]Professor X wrote:
I will admit, in my life I have found that there are relationships based on something unexplainable…where it is more than just about what you get from someone…but like you were supposed to meet that person.
[/quote]
It was in a “how did you meet your spouse” thread that I first wrote about it here, but I watched a concert with my wife 4 years before we actually met. She was standing behind/next to me the whole time.
[quote]harrypotter wrote:
I’ve never owned a dog but from my experiences they are more loyal than any woman could be.[/quote]
^^
[quote]SkyzykS wrote:
[quote]Professor X wrote:
I will admit, in my life I have found that there are relationships based on something unexplainable…where it is more than just about what you get from someone…but like you were supposed to meet that person.
[/quote]
It was in a “how did you meet your spouse” thread that I first wrote about it here, but I watched a concert with my wife 4 years before we actually met. She was standing behind/next to me the whole time.
[/quote]
How in the world did you figure that one out?
[quote]on edge wrote:
[quote]SkyzykS wrote:
[quote]Professor X wrote:
I will admit, in my life I have found that there are relationships based on something unexplainable…where it is more than just about what you get from someone…but like you were supposed to meet that person.
[/quote]
It was in a “how did you meet your spouse” thread that I first wrote about it here, but I watched a concert with my wife 4 years before we actually met. She was standing behind/next to me the whole time.
[/quote]
How in the world did you figure that one out?[/quote]
By looking at a picture in her apartment of her and her sister taken at the concert standing side by side, wearing an outstanding set of bikini tops. I looked at her and said “You went to Ozzfest '99?”. She was startled by that, but as we talked it became clear that we were not just at the same concert, but right there with each other.
Shit if my mom…just decided to stop feeding me as a kid…and my neighbor started to feed me in lieu of my mom…I would start looking for the neighbor as well.
Ive heard these arguments before, but in a sense these abstaining from giving a dependent its needs to survive can be likened to most likely any relationship.
I have a few instances which my dogs (that I love dearly, and believe they love me to, or whatever you want to call it) have protected me, chose me over food, wanted my attention over others etc…but cynics and callous individuals in this situation such as Schwarzfahrer will probably scoff at it.
No need to pity me BTW, I do equate love with doggish exceitment, ironically I am also in a human relationship that has lasted for close to 20 years. Who knew That I could have both…
Duwatsrt: That was a great story. I had a german shorthaired pointer myself and that one really plucked the old heart strings.
[quote]MattyXL wrote:
I have a few instances which my dogs (that I love dearly, and believe they love me to, or whatever you want to call it) have protected me, chose me over food, wanted my attention over others etc…but cynics and callous individuals in this situation such as Schwarzfahrer will probably scoff at it.[/quote]
Right.
Thanks to university education, I certainly went through a sceptical/cynical phase towards anything that couldn’t be broached by empirical science (and thus boiled down to a sentimental basis or “faith”).
Eventually, I stumbled into the wealth of philosophy/literature on these type questions and now, even if we do eventually* identify exact neural pathways, neurotransmitters responsible for particular thoughts/emotions/mental states… well, what a thoroughly unsatisfying picture that would be (imo)
*which could easily be right around the time we’ve mastered inter-planetary travel
Big fat lol @ all the posts comparing dogs to women.
[quote]Professor X wrote:
[quote]JLone wrote:
[quote]Professor X wrote:
What made me ask is the way my dog behaves. He was a rescue dog. When I lay his food down…he won’t touch it at first. He’ll look at it and them come over to me and stay with me until I either respond to him and pet him or say it’s ok.
If he was just after the food…he won that without the extra credit.[/quote]
My dog, like all dogs, loves food but she is the same way. I taught her to never take a treat or eat a bite of food without permission when she was a puppy. She won’t even take a biscuit from the vet without checking with me. She’s just a well trained pooch.
I never really thought of it as love that’s a word we (humans) made up. If I had to guess I would think my dog “cares” for me and I love her but in the end she is a dog. I read a book a couple years ago that was very interesting called, “Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know.” I would recommend it to anyone that thinks they are a dog expert, you will learn at least 1 new thing, I promise. [/quote]
I know we tend to humanize behavior. It is just that I do see signs of him just giving me respect…or “thanks”…and it stands out as more than just “dog behavior” sometimes.[/quote]
I think you should trust your instinct on this one. Just like some humans are more/less capable of showing love, I feel the same about dogs. From your descriptions it seems obvious you have a special dog and you enjoy a special bond with him. It is also quite obvious you really love this dog, whether you describe it as such or not. It shines through in your posts about him.
Animals can read that non-verbal communication really well and some respond in kind. A vet once told me that smart dogs are like 7 year old children and they can learn similar habits as our kids do. Love can be ‘learned’, she said. Dogs who have owners who genuinely love their pets are much more likely to get those feelings reciprocated.
She added too that because dogs remember things differently you stand an excellent chance of changing a rescue dogs habits and feelings. You shower those with love and you can get them to change their responses/habits etc.
You can see in the eyes of your dog that he is a special one though. Seems wicked smart. There’s a ‘soul’ in there.
Of course your dog feels love. Your dog feels every emotion possibly, and MUCH more intensely than humans do.
When’s the last time you got as excited as a dog? As aggressive? As panicked or distraught?
All animals feel the entire spread spectrum of emotions–by nature they’re emotional, instinctive beings. But that line of thought is a very slippery slope, and most people spend the whole of their lives trying desperately to avoid the precipice of that particular mental chasm.
Because once you begin sliding down that line of reasoning, once you begin realizing that animals experience love and sadness, elation and fear, you might start asking other questions. You might start wondering whether it’s morally just that an animal lives and dies in conditions of misery beyond your wildest conception, that its last moments are spent in fear so intense that it’s nearly unimaginable–watching one after another of its friends being slaughtered before it too gets the knife, the hammer, the spike–all just so you can enjoy a steak, a burger, a grilled husk of its flesh.
If you’ve got the stomach for it, go watch Food Inc. Go check out the conveyer belts of newly hatched chicks chirping while they roll on towards the grinder. Tell me you don’t feel something. I guarantee that if your dog understood what was happening, he’d feel a hell of a lot more.
Of course, no animals were harmed in the making of this post–this is just food for thought. But then again, I don’t expect that most people will follow that particular train of thought to its final stop. The end of that line has a destination and moral imperative that most people try desperately to avoid.
Because, after all, what does the suffering and slaughter of a few animals compared to your next meal. They’re just dumb animals. They don’t feel anything. Or do they?
[quote]Travacolypse wrote:
Of course your dog feels love. Your dog feels every emotion possibly, and MUCH more intensely than humans do.
When’s the last time you got as excited as a dog? As aggressive? As panicked or distraught?
All animals feel the entire spread spectrum of emotions–by nature they’re emotional, instinctive beings. But that line of thought is a very slippery slope, and most people spend the whole of their lives trying desperately to avoid the precipice of that particular mental chasm.
Because once you begin sliding down that line of reasoning, once you begin realizing that animals experience love and sadness, elation and fear, you might start asking other questions. You might start wondering whether it’s morally just that an animal lives and dies in conditions of misery beyond your wildest conception, that its last moments are spent in fear so intense that it’s nearly unimaginable–watching one after another of its friends being slaughtered before it too gets the knife, the hammer, the spike–all just so you can enjoy a steak, a burger, a grilled husk of its flesh.
If you’ve got the stomach for it, go watch Food Inc. Go check out the conveyer belts of newly hatched chicks chirping while they roll on towards the grinder. Tell me you don’t feel something. I guarantee that if your dog understood what was happening, he’d feel a hell of a lot more.
Of course, no animals were harmed in the making of this post–this is just food for thought. But then again, I don’t expect that most people will follow that particular train of thought to its final stop. The end of that line has a destination and moral imperative that most people try desperately to avoid.
Because, after all, what does the suffering and slaughter of a few animals compared to your next meal. They’re just dumb animals. They don’t feel anything. Or do they?[/quote]
You seem unfamiliar with the violence of nature, where most animals are being eaten before they are even dead.
I’m not saying there are not problems with our current system, just not enough for us to remove ourselves from the food chain. As I see it the problem is not that we kill things, but that we have others do it for us, thus disassociating ourselves from where our food originates.
[quote]Duwatsrt wrote:
I received this in an email.
Subject: A Father, a Daughter and a Dog- A true story by Catherine Moore
A Father, a Daughter and a Dog- A true story by Catherine Moore
“Watch out! You nearly broad sided that car!” My father yelled at me. “Can’t you do anything right?”
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn’t prepared for another battle.
“I saw the car, Dad . Please don’t yell at me when I’m driving…”
My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.
Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts… dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon . He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn’t lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it… He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn’t do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor’s orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone…
My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad’s troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.
The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered in vain.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, “I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article…”
I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had proved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog…
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon… After I filled out a
questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world’s aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed.
Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hip bones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. “Can you tell me about him?” The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. “He’s a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we’ve heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.” He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. “You mean you’re going to kill him?”
“Ma’am,” he said gently, “that’s our policy. We don’t have room for every unclaimed dog.”
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my
decision. “I’ll take him,” I said. I drove home with the dog on the
front seat beside me… When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch… “Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad !” I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. “If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don’t want it” Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me… It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. “You’d better get used to him, Dad. He’s staying!”
Dad ignored me… “Did you hear me, Dad ?” I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw…
Dad’s lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne . Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad’s bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne 's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night… I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father’s room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad’s bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favourite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad’s peace of mind.
The morning of Dad’s funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church… The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life.
And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
“I’ve often thanked God for sending that angel,” he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article… Cheyenne 's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter .
…his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father. . and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama or petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
And if you don’t send this to at least 4 people —nobody cares… But do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found.
God answers our prayers in His time…not ours…
[/quote]
Can I just say that that is one of the best stories, anecdotes, what ever you want to call it I have ever read.
[quote]Travacolypse wrote:
Of course your dog feels love. Your dog feels every emotion possibly, and MUCH more intensely than humans do.
When’s the last time you got as excited as a dog? As aggressive? As panicked or distraught?
All animals feel the entire spread spectrum of emotions–by nature they’re emotional, instinctive beings. But that line of thought is a very slippery slope, and most people spend the whole of their lives trying desperately to avoid the precipice of that particular mental chasm.
Because once you begin sliding down that line of reasoning, once you begin realizing that animals experience love and sadness, elation and fear, you might start asking other questions. You might start wondering whether it’s morally just that an animal lives and dies in conditions of misery beyond your wildest conception, that its last moments are spent in fear so intense that it’s nearly unimaginable–watching one after another of its friends being slaughtered before it too gets the knife, the hammer, the spike–all just so you can enjoy a steak, a burger, a grilled husk of its flesh.
If you’ve got the stomach for it, go watch Food Inc. Go check out the conveyer belts of newly hatched chicks chirping while they roll on towards the grinder. Tell me you don’t feel something. I guarantee that if your dog understood what was happening, he’d feel a hell of a lot more.
Of course, no animals were harmed in the making of this post–this is just food for thought. But then again, I don’t expect that most people will follow that particular train of thought to its final stop. The end of that line has a destination and moral imperative that most people try desperately to avoid.
Because, after all, what does the suffering and slaughter of a few animals compared to your next meal. They’re just dumb animals. They don’t feel anything. Or do they?[/quote]
Hey, dude…The Lion King had a great song about the Circle of Life.
Maybe iTune it??
I feel you X. Dog brains just raise so many questions. I could list them all but I think this video explores the deep philosophical aspects of this discussion better than any of us could. I don’t know why I had never considered the Christian intuition aspect of our relationship with dogs before. But this has really got me thinking about it now.
Ok…first off…if they are going to put the camera in a gratuitous position, I could use a close up.
I agree with her…if they don’t have brains…what are they doing on this planet???
The blond fatass HAS to be a joke.
A BRILLIANT joke.