27 December

Dog Of Privilege

by Jon Katz

There’s no question about it; Zinnia is a dog of privilege, a concept more and more people are thinking about.

I know that if you are a white male in America – I am a white male in America – I receive social, economic, and political privileges, opportunities,  advantages, or rights that are not always available to other people.

I never felt guilty about it because it was never a choice I was asked to me. It was the world I grew up in. Much of the world around me was built to accommodate people like me, and as that reality becomes more fragile and controversial, it has split our country in two.

Credit card companies solicit my business, I have never been afraid of the police, or pulled over without cause. I have never been sexually harassed or denied any job because of my color or gender or immigration status.

I am wary of labels and generalizations, and I find the PC culture obnoxious. It’s not a simple notion.

Feminism often errs in failing to note that men suffer too, and many men do not receive exclusive benefits solely because of their sex. It is tough to be a woman; it is not always easy to be a man. Human life is, by nature, hard.

Still, privilege is an authentic thing, and I appreciate its benefits in my own life as my consciousness has been raised.

Privilege is genuine. And people who wonder about it can learn a lot about privilege from studying the lives of their dogs. It’s very easy to see in that way.

I’m interested in the sociology of dogs, and I see with our new pup Zinnia that privilege is also a pervasive concept within animal sociology, especially with dogs.

Zinnia is a dog of privilege.

She has never missed a meal, been kicked or beaten, gone hungry, been shunned by a mother, or denied medical care, left outside to be assaulted by insects or rats. She was never left to the elements, been confined to a crate in a shelter, languished without family or home for months or years. Neither has she has been without a purpose and a job.

She will never know the problems and dislocation caused by poor breeding or inbreeding.

She has never had to endure the trauma of rescue, the pain of abuse, the upheaval that comes from changing homes; she has never known malnutrition or the pain of hunger or disease.

Bud experienced all of those things, as millions of dogs do. He was never a Dog Of Privilege, and his experience and Zinnia’s mirror the human experience in a surprising number of ways. If you doubt that the notion of privilege is real, consider your dogs. They often mirror us.

He was left outside in an open pen for at least a year, starving, cold, hot, alone. By rights, he should be fearful and angry. Instead, he is generous and loving.

I have been thinking about dogs and privilege lately because I made a conscious decision to get a Dog Of Privilege, just as I decided last year to get a battered rescue dog like Bud (or Red before him).

A dog like Zinnia will never suffer an untreated health problem. I wanted a dog grounded enough to do intense therapy work, and always stay calm. I think I chose wisely.

She will not ever be beaten into submission. While millions of dogs are prematurely torn from their siblings, brutally or ignorantly trained, left alone in backyards and basements, tied to trees, that is unusual for a dog of privilege.

Zinnia was bred by an experienced, wealthy, and compassionate breeder; her entry into the world was as gentle and loving as any animal’s entry can be.  She had the best medical care, the finest food, a human on hand day and night to watch.

She had plenty of milk to drink, siblings to play with, a clean, even a beautiful and spotless pen to spend her first weeks in, a clean and well-tended and safe yard to explore when she was ready.

She came grounded and secure; she barely whimpered her first night alone in her crate. Zinnia, like people of privilege, seemed to trust and world and expect the best.

The best is what she had always known. There was nothing much to adjust to; she just slipped from one good life into another.

When she enters a high school or crowded room, she is not afraid, in part, I think, because she has never experienced fear or hostility, and doesn’t know what it is. I hope it stays that way for her, but there is an element of privilege to a life like that.

In our dogs, we see the benefits of privilege and the pain of need. In the dog world, Zinnia is the equivalent of the white male. Her privilege continues.

Here at Bedlam Farm, she entered a world of crates, people home all day, the best and most expensive puppy food, constant love, careful socialization, positive training,  other dogs to hang out with, safe and healthy toys to chew everywhere.

If anything happened to us, Zinnia would not have to languish in a shelter or cope with a foster home.

Labrador rescue groups would rush in to buy her and place her in a loving home. People would pay a high price for her; she is bred from champions – I spent $2,500 to buy her –  In the animal world, as in some quarters of the human world, it helps to be cute and good looking.

Zinnia is a beautiful dog. And an adorable puppy to boot, something that only reinforces her security and sense of being loved.

People love her on sight, so she has learned to love in return. I am thrilled to have Zinnia; she reminds me of the always fragile boundary between the privileged and the needy.

She is both the dog I wanted and the dog I needed. A great love between us has already sprouted.

In my life, I have experienced both privileges and need.

I am indeed a man of privilege with all of its many benefits. I have often known pain and need.

I am blessed to have wonderful dogs from each world.

I can only learn from it, not only about them but about me.

So can the rest of us. The dogs also teach us how easy it is to cross those lines. Bud and Zinnia are fast and loving friends. Neither seems the least bit aware of the differences that separate them.

If they can do it, we can do it.

Through their lives, we can see our own, and reach out to one another.

6 Comments

  1. Jon One thing that I hear constantly is that people do not adopt black cats nor black dogs. I find that very, very sad. I can maybe see the cats (superstition) but the poor DOGS!

  2. “Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night” Before I was born I chose my life in order to further my spiritual development. It seemed a lot easier in the planning where time doesn’t exist than it does here but it has paid enormous dividends. I am who I am because of the course of my life. Even when I make decisions that are unpalatable I can say, “I’m not a victim, I made a choice”. There is power in that.

  3. I would think thhat if anything would happen to you and Maria, that Zinnia would go back to her breeder. Typically the contract for a reputable breeder states that. So anyone who would take care of your affairs should know that, and have the necessary information.

    1. Thanks Fran, I think the dog would go back to whoever Maria and I decided she should go back to, it’s not a subject for the Internet. It might be the breeder, it might be someone we know and love. It’s also a private decision.

      1. A responsible breeder will always make sure that the dog is safe. But sure, it could go to anyone trusted. And certainly, I would not expect to see that decision here. Since my husband and I are seniors too, it’s something we’ve paid attention to.

        1. Good to think about…I apologize if I seemed brusque, Fran, it just struck me as a private and personal issues, and truthfully, I doubt Zinnia will ever return to Lenore. Lenore would take her in, but she’s in the business of selling dogs, not re-homing them. I know many good people who would take wonderful care of her, I just balk at public discussions of issues like that..

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