Dog Blog

Shit Happens! According to the Golden Rule

A fascinating anecdote from today’s personal experience illustrates the difficulty of applying the Golden Rule.

As I was walking Molly and Puff, a nameless woman (driving a brand new SUV) pulled out of her driveway, slowed down and stopped. Rolling down her window, she asked me “You don’t walk your dogs on the lawn, do you?”

“On the lawn?” I asked, somewhat confused by her question, for both dogs, while leashed, were walking on HER lawn (at least the part of it that fronts the street in this no-sidewalk neighborhood). She elaborated that she meant did I allow them to “go” on the lawn. “No!” I said immediately. For this was true. I had not “allowed” them to “go” on her lawn, either today or on any other day.

“Never on your lawn!” I added for stricter accuracy.

But then she broadened the question, “But, I mean, you don’t walk them on anyone’s lawn, do you?”

Thinking that such an unreasonably open-ended question deserved a lying answer, I answered with an I’m sure none-too-convincing “No!”

She flashed one of those phony, big money smiles I see all the time at the country clubs and drove off. I can’t prove it, but anger somehow seemed to be lurking somewhere behind that smile.

Not wanting to dwell on the obvious, smelly issue of fecal material, I thought about the broader issues, chiefly among them the Golden Rule. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” I wondered, would I mind if this gal were to “walk” her leashed dog in such a manner that it would “go” on my lawn? No; I would not mind at all. But that does not end the matter. The Golden Rule, it would seem, asks more than simply doing to others what we would not mind if they did to us. Otherwise, everyone else is to be held to whatever personal standard a total stranger might have. There are doubtless people who would not care whether you threw diapers on their lawn or fucked them in the ass. That does not authorize them to throw diapers in your yard or fuck you in the ass. No; what is required is that you place yourself in the position of others, and then ask whether you would mind. This is not always easy.

But wait! Does the Golden Rule give that woman have the right to make her request on behalf of ALL lawns? I am not sure that it does. Should I anticipate that many other people would see their lawns as does this woman? In fact, I do, and it would not be a problem but for Molly, who has an aversion to taking a crap anywhere near her own home. She holds it in, waiting desperately for a “walk.” Puff rarely “goes” outside his yard.

There is, of course, the “pooper scooper” issue. I hate those laws, which were started in San Francisco by Harvey Milk.

But that is too political for this site.

No agendas here!

Dogs show what we hide

Lesson in life from dogs I know well. On my morning run, depending on the time of day, sometimes if I am lucky I am greeted by "Fenway." A lovely Golden Retreiver/Yellow Lab mix, that dog simply radiates joy when she sees me, and lately has taken to lifting back her head for a second and flashing a very noticeable smile. It obviously means a lot to her for me to stop, and she makes a big deal out of simply showing what can only be called love. I don't really know why, but that dog just wants me to stay there with her. This happened over time, for no particular reason; maybe she can sense that she cheers me up too.

Continuing my run, I round the corner, then cross Old Gulph Road, then round another corner, then up the street past another "regular" named "Coco." I am of course partial to the name "Coco" because of the Pit Bull matriarch of the Grant Street house in Berkeley (a dog born 26 years ago). Anyway, today's Coco makes a big point of throwing a complete fit of real anger whenever she sees me -- no matter what I do. The harder I try, the angrier she gets. Nice Catholic family, religious type garden sculpture, I have spoken nicely to them and they assure me Coco will not bite. But the pure rage of that dog is something not to be believed. Normally she sees me from inside the house and barks furiously, first from a downstairs window, and then as I ascend the hill and begin to fade from sight she runs to the next floor and turns up the volume of her barking. The other morning she was in the yard, and just lost control when I rounded the bend. Following me and lunging at each step, it wasn't even enough for me to get out of her range today; no sooner was I safely gone than I heard a sudden yelp of pain -- meaning Coco had entered the invisible fence and gotten a severe shock.

I am the same person. I try to love all dogs, and I have bent over backwards for Coco. But I just can't win with her, and I know that I never will.

Fenway loves me, and Coco hates me.

Life is that way.