Is There Any Such Thing As Too Many Dogs?

Despite my utter lack of social skills, I am still able to carry on a conversation on precisely three topics. These are books, auto racing, and dogs. It’s hard to find somebody “doggier” than I am, and once I start talking about dogs, I do tend to go on at considerable length. But since most of the world is less dog-crazy than I am, this often results in my having the same baffling conversations over and over.

When people find out that I have “lots of dogs,” (translation, more than they do, and they have one) they almost always say, “Wow, you must have a huge house!” I reply that no, I just have a tiny 1970s-era split level, and I’ve lived in apartments with more square footage. I add that it wouldn’t matter if I had a sprawling 8000 square foot mansion, because the dogs are going to be in whichever room I’m in anyway. Might as well live in a garden shed. Meanwhile, my mind is busy wondering, “Do people really determine how many pets they’ll have by how big their house is?” It bothers me on a lot of levels to know that some people probably do.

Another question that I get far more often than I ever would have thought, but which I’ve now come to expect is, “In the house???” Um, yeah. In the actual house. On my couch, on my bed, under my feet, on my lap (whether they fit or not, which they don’t), chin resting on the edge of the tub while I’m taking a bath, and parading contentedly along behind me every time I get off the couch. Where the hell else would they be? I adore them and want them near me.

I’m not sure if this next comment says more about my dog-mania or my housekeeping skills (or lack thereof). I announce the quantity and breeds of the dogs that live in my house, and the less-dog-enamored person gasps, “Oh my goodness! You must vacuum all the time!” No, I don’t. Fortunately, being a hermit and living 1000 miles away from the nearest relative means not a lot of drop-in visitors. (Confidentially, even if I didn’t have dogs I wouldn’t want people dropping by all the time.) Mainly, though, I just don’t freak out about dog hair. Doesn’t bother me. One or the other of us vacuums maybe once a week on the average. More often if one of the dogs is currently blowing giant cottony wads of coat. Anyone with this many dogs and who loves them as absolutely as I do learns to see dog hair as a positive addition rather than something to be ashamed of. Dog hair can be insulation during the cold Minnesota winter, a unique decorator accent, a fashion accessory, and frequently a condiment. I once saw a salt shaker set that had three pieces labeled “Salt,” “Pepper,” and “Dog Hair.” I wish I’d bought it! Somehow, I can open a can of soup, and before I get it poured in a bowl there are several long golden-or-Pyr hairs floating in it. Protein, right? I long ago decided it’s not worth worrying about. (People hair, on the other hand, grosses me out. Go figure.) People also never ask me to bring things to potluck dinners, which is fine with me since I don’t actually cook. Or enjoy potluck dinners.

The one comment that really gets me cranky, though, is anything indicating that the speaker feels I have “too many dogs.” Such as when they say, “You have too many dogs.” Um, according to whom, and what the hell business is it of yours??? What, exactly, does “too many dogs” mean, anyway? First of all, at this moment I have four dogs. One of them is currently attempting to nudge my laptop from its customary “laptop” location so he can put his big white (beautiful) head on my lap in its place, so as to better receive numerous ear-skritches. (OK, Brody, in a few minutes. I have to proof-read.) I have had as many as seven dogs at a time. At one point, we had three cocker spaniels and four golden retrievers. We again had seven dogs when Porsche the cocker and Sassafras the golden were no longer with us, and Gulliver and Ozark (Great Pyrenees mixes… Ozark is still with the pack) joined us.

I decided that rather than counting dogs, I would measure how many pounds of dog I had. In the three-cocker, four-golden era, I’d say we had about 400 pounds of dog. When it was two cockers, three goldens and two Pyr mixes, it was more like 500 pounds. We once had only five dogs, consisting of two “normal” goldens, two Pyr mixes, and Ruxpin the giant oversize golden, also adding up to very nearly 500 doggie-pounds. More bark for your buck, or something like that. Right now, with Sprocket and Darwin (goldens), Brody (Pyr) and Ozark (Pyr mix) we’re at 345 pounds. Barely anything at all! A tiny, minuscule quantity of canine poundage. In fact, I think I need to fatten these ones up, or go get a few more right now!

The definition of “too many dogs” clearly eludes me. How do you know? Is it when you can’t afford to feed them? No trouble there. I not only feed them, but due to my nifty job and the resulting discounts and freebies (thank you, manufacturer sales programs!), as well as my willingness to make my own raw food when not overcome with laziness, I feed them very, very well. My dogs probably eat better than your kids. I know they eat better than I do.

Is it when you can’t keep up with their grooming or afford to pay someone to do it for you? Again, I’ve got that covered. I do most of their routine grooming myself, and even did that when I had cockers and had to sit on the floor with clippers until I couldn’t feel my legs and had a back shaped like a question mark. My dogs might occasionally look a bit scruffy in between groomings, but overall they are exceptionally well cared-for. The furriest of the boys get to go see Tara at Little Suzie’s a few times a year for help with the undercoat. Most of the people who have the nerve to tell me I have too many dogs probably spend more on fancy coffee than I do on my dogs’ grooming.

Maybe it’s when you can’t afford the necessary veterinary care. Let me say this veeeerrrrrry slooooooowly. I... manage… a… holistic… veterinary… practice. I’ve been in this business for 10 years. Two of my best friends in the world are the two vets who own the practice that I manage. Veterinary care is not a problem.

But what it comes down to is this: It’s nobody’s damned business how many dogs I have. And by the way, Dr. Vet-Friend One has twice as many dogs as I do, plus about a dozen cats, some sheep, three horses, chickens and geese (I think that’s it, but I’m never sure) and has no more property or any larger a house than I do. She might, perhaps, be a bad influence. Dr. Vet-Friend Two has only three dogs, but they are all Great Danes, so we’re probably pretty close in a pound-for-pound comparison.

Here’s the thing. I don’t go on a lot of fancy vacations. I don’t have a closet full of expensive clothes and shoes. I couldn’t care less about jewelry (I just lose it anyway). I don’t go out to eat three times a week. I don’t have three, four, or five children (I have one, who is all grown up and doing very well). I don’t have a boat or an expensive new car, and I don’t collect antiques or anything of that sort. I have dogs.

Anything else I have, the dogs are more than welcome to share, because they give me a thousand times more in return. They love me all day, every day, whether I’m rich or poor, fat or thin, wearing a designer dress or fuzzy sweat pants. They make me smile when I feel like shit, and they comfort me when my heart is breaking. They listen to me when I’m spewing pure nonsense, and they’re thrilled to see me even if I’ve only been gone five minutes. They make me laugh with their goofy antics, and they make a walk in the park, a visit to the lake, or a stroll around my own back yard a magical experience. I love seeing the world through their eyes. They take a simple, pure, innocent joy in every sight, every smell, and every experience. Their unselfish nature always gives me something to strive for, and their uncorrupted link to the natural world keeps my spirit grounded.

So how could I possibly, ever, have too many dogs?

And if you say I do, I shall simply have to bite you. Because my dogs won’t. They’re better people than I am.

And now, for your dog-viewing pleasure, here are some shots of some of the dogs who have been part of our pack over the years.

Porsche, Cricket and Flash, aka "The Cockerpack." They were the first three dogs we got, between 1988 and 1991.

Our son in 1998 with the Cockerpack, and Ripley (the love of my life) and Sprocket (now our "Old Man!")

When we had four goldens (as well as the cockers): Sassafras, Ripley the love of my life, Seko (Tom's special boy) and Sprocket (still goin' strong!)

Me in January 2002, two months after my gastric bypass so I was still a little large, with (on the couch) Seko (Tom's special boy!), Sprocket (still here!), Flash, Cricket (look close, she's black, so about all you can see is her tongue), and Ripley the love of my life. On the floor are Gulliver (BEAUTIFUL Pyr/Golden mix) and Ozark (still part of our happy little pack).