pet connection

I grew up in a town of just over 2,200 people in extreme Northern Idaho. The biggest place I’ve ever lived is my college town of Pullman, Wash., with 27,000 people.

Staying in San Francisco for the six weeks of the Academy for Dog Trainers at the SF SPCA was a more drastic change than I could have imagined. Not only was I adjusting to the strenuous class schedule at the Academy, but I was learning to live the big city life at the same time.

Even common communication is different. People were baffled when I said, “I got a farmer’s tan,” a commonly used expression where I’m from to describe the T-shirt tan line where only the part of the arm gets tan, and the rest of it stays completely white from the shirt covering it. Where I’m from, a lot of people work outside, on the hop farms, in the woods logging, in their gardens. “You mean a cab-driver’s tan?” the San Franciscans would ask, trying to understand. I was then given the explanation of something I’d never heard of: The cab-driver’s tan, where only the left arm and side of the face get tan.

Not only are our tan lines different from where I’m from, but our lifestyles as well.

San Francisco is all colors of green, at least in saving their environment, from the way they eat, to the way they shop, to the way they do day-to-day activities. The food here is all advertised organic in the restaurants, and whatever isn’t organic here seems to be put to the stake with the pressure of being organic or else. Burger King and McDonald’s aren’t looked at with the same convenient appeal as they may be at home, but seem to be more of a corporate and environmental evil. Even the dogs eat organic, with many people’s project dogs from my class on an organic diet.

When I first took out my packaged treat bags filled with goodies for my pup, the people cringed.  “Oh jeez, look at all the preservatives!” they said. In their treat bags were bits of organic grass-fed beef or pieces of cooked organic liver. I soon felt that I was feeding my dog a convenience-store special, while their dogs were nibbling gourmet delicacies from a five-star restaurant. Everywhere I went I was surrounded by organic, from dish soap to children’s toys. Even on the crowded concrete streets I was made constantly conscious of nature, strangely even more than I feel back at home in the rural mountains of Northern Idaho. Although I may not be Kermit’s deep shade of green just yet, the city had an impact on my lifestyle: I’m hooked on taking lighter steps with my carbon footprint, and taking proactive steps to bring more to the earth than I take.

Getting to the core of what San Francisco really is means looking at the way pets are treated. Dogs are a way of life for San Francisco: They are everywhere, in stores and even restaurants. Many are off-leash but still stay glued to their owner’s sides!

As a celebration for passing the final exam — yes, I’m done, passed and certified! — my roommate and I joined a couple of her friends at a place called the Stray Bar. I didn’t quite get the significance of the name until I stepped inside and saw a bar full of dog lovers and their pets. Dogs were sitting up at the bar tables with their owners, some were table surfing for any food, and others were roaming around free in the bar sniffing and playing with the other dogs, making it look like an odd mix of dog park with saloon.

“My Pugs would love it here in San Francisco!” I kept saying to everyone, knowing the huge limitations dogs have where I’m from, where a dog would rarely be let in a store (PETCO and Petsmart are our only dog-friendly places) let alone a restaurant or bar. Dogs are not only allowed most everywhere in San Francisco, but they are invited, welcomed and cherished,

My journey in San Francisco ended with the graduation walk, and now I am home, reunited with my Pugs, Willy and Bruce. I told my parents only half-jokingly that I needed them to play the tune “Reunited and it Feels so Good” when I come in the door and sweep my two wrinkly children back into my arms after six weeks of being apart.

Leaving San Francisco was not easy, even though I missed my husband, my dogs and the rest of my family. I have been with my fellow classmates for six weeks, nearly 12 hours a day, every day, and I miss them. I miss the access to some of the most skilled dog training teachers I will ever meet, and to their knowledge and experience on any dog-training question I could ever anticipate. And of course, I also miss San Francisco, the people and the dogs, the eclectic shopping and cafes on every street, and all the friends I’ve met who brought to the city the warmth and life I found there.

And I will miss Lloyd.

Parting with my other project dogs was difficult, but made easier as they were picked up by their adoptive parents right after we said goodbye. But I left San Francisco not knowing when Lloyd will be adopted. Although he is in one of the best shelters and has the best of care from shelter staff and volunteers, I still can’t help but be torn at the thoughts of leaving him. I admit to thinking of packing the little guy up to take home.

In gratitude to Lloyd for all he taught me during our two weeks together — and mostly in hopes of making my little friend more adoptable — I treated him to a grooming, complete with a sudsy bath and a new hairdo. Lloyd’s hair before was an unmanageable mess, and although endearing with endless curls, couldn’t be combed. Lloyd’s new look was revealed when I went to pick him up from Bernie’s Groomer across from the shelter. The big door swung open and out stepped a dog looking ready for the show ring. I’m not exaggerating here: The grand revealing of Lloyd was more surprise to me than anything. I didn’t even recognize him, sputtering, “This is Lloyd?!”

Once hidden under the twists of hair, Lloyd’s eyes now met mine from a cleanly trimmed face, finally allowing me to see into the shades of brown and gold in his glowing eyes. Lloyd also acted surprised as he looked up me, and we walked out into the midday sun to take him back to the kennel. He looked back and forth at people and sights as if he had never before seen them before, making me feel as if I was watching a miracle of Jesus giving sight to the blind.

We walked past kennel attendants who looked at us dumbfounded.

“It’s Lloyd!” I exclaimed as we walked by, only to be met by their gasp of awe and amazement as many didn’t recognize him at first. He went from a dog with a cute, ratty mess of hai  to a blow-dried, and finely trimmed stylish pup. Such perfect city sophistication!

I have faith that he will find his home soon, as I know that when people see the inner dog I’ve seen, the fur, intelligence and love, they can’t help but be taken by him — and take him forever.

After my final test was over I went upstairs just to sit with him in his kennel, and work on adding a few tricks to his repertoire. Soon our practice treats ran out, and Lloyd crawled into my lap and curled himself down, nestling himself onto my legs with a sigh. I sat petting him rhythmically, immersed in the enormity of the class finished, a mental U-Haul of dog information neatly packed into my mind from the experience and ready to take home, along with the memory of many friends, dogs and experiences.

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