Cheena

Humans let her down.

Cheena took care of me when I was a boy. That’s not to say my parents didn’t. Of course they did. We grew up in a nice little house on a dead end street. We played with the neighborhood kids, and Cheena was always there. She belonged to the neighbors, but it seemed like she spent most of her waking hours with me. I think I was her puppy, and she thought it was her job to protect me and keep me company. I don’t have many specific memories of her. I’m certain I enjoyed being with her.

One day, on the way to school, some other boy started beating me up. I have no idea why. Maybe I made a joke he didn’t like. More likely, it was just a misunderstanding. I couldn’t hear well, as a boy, due to allergies and congestion. It’s very possible I misunderstood something he said. Definitely, I did not “get” people. I don’t get people now. There are so many unwritten rules in culture. Citizens are always expected to pledge loyalty to explicit rules and norms, and then they set about violating those norms, and who gets to break which rules, and when, has always eluded me. It’s like everyone in the world is a part of a secret club except me. I always saw kids do things they definitely were told not to, and they got away with it, and if I ever copied them, I got in trouble. I can imagine some scenario like that got me into the position where I was being beaten up and was baffled as to why. It’s also possible I was being a jerk, and getting punched was perfectly appropriate under the circumstances. I just don’t remember.

I do remember this boy had me pinned to the ground. He was enraged and I was perplexed and probably frightened. My memory of the situation, although I could be mistaken, is that my big brother, whom one might suppose would be my protector, just stood by and watched it happen. I imagine he was somewhat embarrassed that his little brother needed to be beat up. I remember clearly that Cheena came to my rescue, when no one else would. She got her face between the boy and me, and she nipped at him. It was nothing serious, as far as I can recall. A day or two later, someone, and again I can’t remember who, took me aside and spoke directly to me in a serious tone. That in itself was unusual. Most people just ignored me, which I probably preferred. I was told that Cheena had to be put to sleep. She bit someone, which wasn’t allowed. It was the right thing to do, they said. It had to be done.

At the time, I don’t think I knew what to say. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was wrong then just as clearly as I know it was wrong today, decades later. Cheena was protecting me. That was her job. Dogs are selectively bred to protect their human family. It’s not like she was running around the neighborhood attacking random people. She did the right thing. They killed her for it. The people to blame for her death were, mostly, her owners, my neighbors. I don’t remember their names. They lived one or two houses north of us. I can’t even picture what they looked like. I don’t think they were bad people, overall, but they let her roam the neighborhood when they might have predicted something like this could happen, not to mention the possibility of being hit by a car. Animal Control said Cheena was a problem, and they let the officers take her. Her death was also the fault of the boy who was beating me up. How can he be the victim if he was the one on top of me, punching me? It’s not like he lost an eye, or was permanently disfigured. Cheena used the least amount of force necessary to get him off of me. She obviously could have killed him if that had been her intention. She was the protector. She was doing the right thing, and she died for it.

Until recently, I hadn’t really considered how much Cheena influenced my life. I don’t have many clear memories of her, just a general impression that she was a great dog and I loved her. I enjoyed spending time with her. Right at this moment, as I type this, five dogs are sleeping near me. Mu is snoring gently. We will go for our last walk of the day, soon, and then they will have dinner, and we will go to bed, the dogs all packed around me. I am relaxed around them, as much as they are relaxed around me. With humans, I always have to worry about saying the wrong thing, or not saying the right thing. Although I do enjoy talking to some people, always someone who protects animals and nature like I do, a member of my tribe, I often feel uncomfortable, like I’m not quite the person they expect me to be, or wish I was. I think perhaps Cheena’s greatest gift to me was just that acceptance, just wanting to be with me, and not waiting for me to say the right thing. (In fairness to my family and friends, they have been very patient with my shortcomings and supportive of my mission, and have not complained. The perception of disappointing people could be entirely in my own head, but I do get the impression that they would be delighted if I could be on time, for once, as an example, or occasionally wear clean clothes without holes.) I don’t have a specific memory of being aware, at the time, that Cheena accepted me without judgement, but I don’t remember much from my early years. I have the general impression that I was comfortable around Cheena in the same way that I am comfortable around my dogs now. I do remember, vividly, being beaten up, and Cheena rescuing me. And then they killed her for doing the right thing. Of that one concrete fact, I am certain.

I spend more than 80 hours a week helping dogs and cats that need me. My dogs and I work in service of the lost dogs and cats, even though we are employed by humans and work with humans. If you count my own dogs, I spend almost every waking moment helping animals in need. I have spent 15 years helping lost dogs and cats through my business and my nonprofit. Some of the dogs and cats I tried to help did not survive. Today, Tino and I went looking for a puppy, and Tino found remains that seem to be hers, most likely. She was 4 months old, 11 pounds, lost in an alien environment next to the airport and the freeway, in freezing weather, near a green belt full of coyotes. It wasn’t her fault she was lost there. Someone transporting her made a mistake. Humans make mistakes and dogs and cats pay the price. In the past 15 years, we have saved hundreds of lives, but we haven’t saved them all. Whether these pets were saved, or never found, or were found deceased, in every instance it was not the fault of the dog or the cat that they were in that position. Humans make mistakes, and animals pay the price.

We help dogs and cats after they are lost, when the most effective way to help them would be before they are lost. The mistakes that humans make, in most instances they could simply stop making those mistakes if they took reasonable precautions. I have detailed the many precautionary measures people can take for lost pets, from the simplest to the more sophisticated. My articles on loss prevention simply aren’t read like my stories about my dogs rescuing cats and dogs. At a very minimum, every single dog and cat should have a microchip. There is simply no reason in the world that cats and dogs should not be microchipped. It is not expensive. It is quick and easy. Our shelters, which are currently operating at twice their intended capacity, at a cost of millions of dollars, would be almost empty if every dog and cat had a microchip. It is a simple procedure, and many organizations offer microchipping for free. The only reason not to have a microchip in every cat and dog is that people just don’t care, apparently.

Of all the species on earth, humans are among my least favorite, generally speaking. If you are reading this, chances are I’m not talking about you. I want to protect dogs and cats and trees and parks and birds and ecosystems, and in every instance, what I’m trying to protect them from is humans. I am at war with the majority of humans. My tribe is the Earth, and dogs and cats and nature and mountains and forests. You protect what you love, and I love dogs. I could write many books about the reasons why I dislike humans as a species, but I think the main reason I hate people is that they are capable of doing amazing, clever, helpful things, and they often choose ignorance and destruction. Every day, I see certain humans doing everything in their power to make the world a better place. As human culture in general destroys the planet, a minority of humans are working hard and smart at saving the planet. As the United States euthanizes millions of healthy dogs and cats every year, armies of volunteers are fighting to save as many as they can. Humans can be inventive and intelligent, brave and kind when they want to be. We can make solar panels and electric cars. We can protect dogs with microchips and collars and ID tags and GPS trackers and harnesses and leashes and good fences and proper training, but many people just won’t. I will spend the rest of my life trying to protect dogs and cats and forests, and I will undoubtedly fail more than I succeed. I know that even if I persuade some humans to join my tribe of Earthlings, the majority of people will never hear me.

If Cheena knew she would die because she protected me, would she do it anyway? It’s not a fair question. She couldn’t possibly know that, and anyway, she protected me because selective breeding gave her the instinct to protect family. You protect what you love. Cheena knew this. I love my planet and my family of dogs, and all dogs and cats, and I will protect them as much as I can, as long as I can, even if I know I will ultimately fail. Perhaps I love dogs so much because of Cheena’s sacrifice for me. Perhaps I love dogs because, like Cheena, they just accept me for who I am, and aren’t wanting me to be something else. I can’t really know if Cheena’s influence and example made me the way I am, but I like to think she would be proud of who I’ve become, and the work that we do. If she could know that protecting me led to her death, then I hope she would also know that I have done my best to protect dogs like her, dogs who have been let down by humans. Every time we succeed in saving another dog, I can imagine that Cheena would be proud. Every time I fail to save a dog or a cat, or fail to persuade people to adequately protect dogs and cats, I can imagine the Cheena would appreciate that I will give my life trying.