Dry Food For Dogs

If I had to make an analogy, I'd say our office is like a dog pound. You've got the dog catchers, trainers, caretakers, the purebred dogs, and the mutts.

The dog catchers roam the streets for the escapees; they derive some sick pleasure out of the catch and the slam of the cage.

The trainers are brought in to attempt to make something out of the ragged mutts and to create show dogs out of those with better blood and breeding.

The caretakers are stuck cleaning cages and grooming, sometimes giving shots and feeding the dogs cheap, dry food.

The purebred dogs are obviously lost. These dogs are meant for some nice home but, through some unfortunate circumstance, have ended up here.

Then there are the mutts - the vast majority... the unwanted and abused whose time, usually, is unfortunately limited. Very few mutts are trainable, although most are loveable and good, as dogs go. Once in a while a sympathetic family will arrive and adopt a mutt, and often mutts will escape, preferring the uncertainty of freedom to the confinement and torpor of captivity.

Once or twice a month, at the end of the day of the last day of the week, a trainer and a catcher will calmly lead an unsuspecting dog to the bowels of the place, and that dog is never seen again. Then the remainder of the occupants wander around, whining and confused, trying through it all to forget this phenomena and act as though it never happened. The new dogs always come innocent and with tails wagging, and inevitably grow tired and haggard with each passing day until they, too, join the ranks of the mysteriously disappeared.

Barking is frowned upon, as are fleas, shabby coats, and peeing on the floor. All dogs are expected to wear their collars proudly and at all times, and bring slippers or the paper when so commanded by a superior. Fighting is absolutely forbidden, even though it is almost certain to break out at times, as the dogs are from different backgrounds and have different ways of dealing with their captivity. Sometimes a particularly bad fight will spark a mysterious disappearance, thus abating the potential for fights for a little while.

Usually the fights, though, occur between the caretaker and a dog. These fights are but futile growlings for the dog, as the caretaker can control the dog's welfare through food deprivation, cage cleanliness, and outside privileges. Fights of this nature are therefore usually avoided.

The superior inhabitants do have favorite dogs, and these animals get bones and pats and baths (sometimes even twice a week). If they are especially well-trained or pretty, they will be let out quite a bit and even taken to dog shows. (There are many award ribbons on the wall from the best dogs throughout the years). But even a favored dog can fall into the ranks of the myteriously disappeared if that dog becomes too independent or too smart with his tricks.

The bottom line is that the dog pound is an unfavorable place to end up for most dogs. If you are already here, ask yourself this: which category do you fit into, and is that mysterious disappearance in YOUR future?

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Next week: "The Rat Race (or The Art of Losing)"