I’m not crazy about other people’s pets, but they love me.

My daughter Shawn’s late dog Maya never failed to greet me with a leap to the chest that’d knock down a child. After Maya’s sharp claws punctured a nice Izod shirt, I tried to remember not to wear knit clothing when visiting. Shawn’s remaining dog Sparky slobbers me up at every opportunity. And her cat Whitey, who is deaf, doesn’t need hearing to know I’m in the room; he just sidles up, purring, and lays his head in my lap. Cat radar.

Carol and I have loved our own pets well enough. I was 5 when our springer spaniel Lassie died after picking up poisoned food in an alley; I still recall my grief. Our golden retriever Sandy was my buddy from age 10 to age 20. And Carol gets misty remembering the Jason family dog, Dopey Jason.

For that matter, Carol — in addition to possessing clairvoyance and ESP — is a dog whisperer. When Carol croons, savage beasts whimper.

Sam forced us to revisit the pet issue. He was dying for a dog when he was little. Naturally he promised to take care of the creature. We both knew he was full of baloney. As kids, both of us had made — and broken — the same promise.

We also knew how much trouble a pet can be, starting with the need to walk them four times a day. That’s the standard my parents set anyway. Walking the dog turned into one of the great alienating events of my childhood, with my dad deploying nagging and guilt, and me responding with passive aggression … for nothing. Shawn doesn’t walk the dog four times a day yet Sparky seems to survive.

And the responsibility never ends. Walk ‘em, feed ‘em, housebreak ‘em, keep ‘em off the furniture and away from the letter carrier, take ‘em to the vet, put ‘em in the kennel when you go away, yada yada yada. For what? Unlimited, unconditional love, sure, but big deal. Kids give you unconditional love too — for the first 10-12 years anyway, the typical dog lifespan — and after that … well, at least teens are not boring.

I started thinking about this topic after Carol read me an item about people who visited friends and family with their pets in tow. The visitees, pet-less, were miffed. The visitors were taken aback, stunned, uncomprehending. What’s the problem? It’s only Fido.

Whether or not you’re a pet owner, you probably know what’s going on. To the visitees, Fido is an animal … to the visitors, a person.

No, more than a person, better than a person (sometimes better-looking too). Always up for some fun. Doesn’t ask you to take out the garbage while you’re reading the paper. Likes being petted but willing to take no for an answer. Can’t cook — can’t even talk — but those may be pluses too.

Sorry. I once was able to go there but no more. I’d rather deal with messy human relationships than messy animals. Maybe it’s because I’m writing novels. The social scientist seeks for us to understand our nature, the clergyman seeks for us to rise above it … but the novelist just wants us to roll around in it.

President Harry Truman once said, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.” But I’d rather give the last word to Dorothy Parker, the writer, who said, “People are more fun than anybody.”

Frank Joseph
www.tolovemercy.com

P.S. Come see me in Chicago in November! The appearance schedule is posted at last. I’ll be at three bookstores, four public libraries, eight schools, one book club and the Illinois School Library Media Assn. (ISLMA) annual meeting in Springfield (talking on “Getting Boys to Read”). Check out the full schedule at www.tolovemercy.com/frank_joseph_appearances.html