Dogs With No Names

Even when we can’t see them, we know they are
there. On occasion, we hear them howling on cold
winter nights, in short sequence like coyotes do.
Sometimes in the light of day we catch a glimpse of
them limping along the ditch, tongues hanging out,
trotting to unknown destinations. They seem to be in
a place where only the present matters, oblivious to
their surroundings. Their eyes tell us that yesterday is
forgotten and tomorrow does not yet exist. They are
the dogs with no names, and they roam the reserve
lands of North America. There are millions of them.
They are unwanted, and they know it.
I have come into contact with many of them in
my surgery suite, where their broken legs needed
mending and porcupine quills needed to be removed
from their faces. Fortunately for them, they had this
in common: they were too weak to resist capture and
restraint by the good people who went out of their
way to pick them up. Without exception, once healed,none of these dogs returned to their lives of freedom
and mortal perils. Each was given a name, a collar,
and a loving home.
Prior to working with dogs with no names, I ensured I
was properly vaccinated for tetanus and rabies. Some
of them, I thought, might decide to convey their
displeasure at being handled by sinking their teeth
into my flesh. I was wrong. After working as a doctor
of veterinary medicine with companion dogs for
over twenty years, I realized how little I knew about
canines until I included these dogs in my practice.
They taught me what the true essence of a dog really
is. I had to reconsider their tremendous potential, and
the severe limitations we unknowingly impose on
them while they accompany us on our life journeys.
Every moment spent in a dog’s company is enriching;
every step taken alongside them is lighter. There is
so much more to discover from this alliance. It is my
hope that by engaging yourself in the stories of Dogs
with No Names, you will perceive dogs, and our bond
with them, in a new light.