I was walking Rugby yesterday—that’s him above from a recent commercial photo-shoot–and ran into a young woman walking her West Highland Terrier. I like Westies, as does Rugby (but then, he also likes mail carriers, squirrels, my sister and once wagged his tail at a cockroach…), and I made some positive comments about the breed.
“Well, your dog certainly looks like he hasn’t missed many meals!” was her response. The ethicist programming blocked me from saying what first popped into my head, which was, “Well, neither do you, bitch,” and instead I attempted to enlighten her by saying, in a moderate tone,
“Actually, Rugby is an authentic, Jack Russell Terrier Association-certified Jack Russell, meaning that he is not the long-legged, faux monstrosity the AKC calls a “Parson Russell Terrier,” nor the much smaller toy-like version it calls the “Russell Terrier.” Jack Russell Terriers of the Irish, as in genuine variety, are certified by their personality and hunting traits, and not by looks alone. Thus they vary more in physical traits than AKC breeds, bred for show, and since the bulldog is part of the strange and wonderful alchemy that makes these dogs the bundles of joy they are, some Jacks, like Rugby and his still mourned predecessor Dickens, have a thick bulldog build, with a broad chest and stocky body. They are all muscle (“unlike your simpy terrier”–the ethicist filter blocked this too), and you may be surprised to learn, given the fact that he is at this moment acting more lively than your young dog, that Rugby is just short of 13 years-old, and thus just a bit heavier, but not much, than he was in his youth when the vet said he was as perfect a specimen of the breed as he has ever seen. Val Kilmer or Kirsty Alley he isn’t. He remains unslowed by time, and those meeting him for the first time often mistake him for a puppy, which is undoubtedly how he sees himself.”
She just walked on, hearing little of it.
Why do people think that making gratuitously critical comments about a stranger’s pet is any less rude and disrespectful than insulting a child or anything else that the individual obviously cares about?
This particular insult brought back some terrible memories. Dickens, who was a tougher, diabolical, even smarter and just as loving a Jack as Rugby, was a force of nature with an amazing capacity for play and exercise until just short of his 14th birthday, when he contracted a mysterious respiratory infection. He suddenly had trouble breathing, and the lack of exercise caused him to gain weight. Our vet told us not to try to restrict his diet while we were trying to save him, because he was miserable and probably didn’t have much time left.
We went to a specialist to see what, if anything, could be done about Dickens’ illness. While I waited for his examination and some tests to be performed, I heard, through a door, several staff members laughing and joking about Dickens’ weight, mocking my dog, who was dying. I am still angry at myself for not confronting the specialist about the cruel and unprofessional conduct of his staff.
Amazing: I am furious now just thinking about the episode. There are tears in my eyes! Damn. I loved that dog so much.
Dickens, like Rugby now, injected fun, joy and perspective into every single day. What a gift it is, while faced with the stress and anxiety of running a business, paying the bills and worrying about family members and friends, to begin every morning being confronted by a creature of optimism and perpetual wonder, who views the simple fact of being alive and co-habituating with people who love him a cause for celebration!
Respect me, respect my dog.
What’s the matter with you?
Ethics Alarms 
I love your dog, Jack. I love my Westie, Slider, even more. You understand.
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CT3pGxhUsAALROC.jpg:large
I draw the line at poodles with rinestone collars but I don’t think you put one of those on Dickens or Rugby. Anyway, I’m wise enough to keep my mouth shut to avoid commenting on dog breeds which I dislike such as the fufu dogs that old ladies and gays seem favor.
Dickens considered even a collar an indignity. Rugby would wear a suit of armor if we asked him to.
I too have lost a lot respect for people, including family members, over their mocking my dog. Some people apparently loath the existence of small breeds and can’t keep their mouths shut about it. Call him an ankle-biter if you will, but I don’t need to hear about how you could punt him across the street like a football. He was growling at you? Yeah, so stop following us and stop antagonizing him.
People don’t understand dogs they have no experience with. There isn’t a breed in existence that won’t earn a human being’s love if given a chance. Is there anyone who doesn’t like a breed, large or small, that they have owned and lived with? When someone mocks a dog or cat, they are simply exhibiting ignorance, and the basic elements of bigotry.
She should look so good when she’s 91 +!
But Rugby would be to nice to say so.
Mocking a pet? I can see having questions about a pet, and most pet owners will happily talk about their furry friends for hours, but not mocking. I can see asking about an unusual feature, like a retriever who had ice blue eyes due to Malamute blood. I can see expressing sympathy at a pet who is obviously old or recovering from an injury.
I can’t see insults or condemnations either. I’m actually a cat lover, and it broke my heart to have to say goodbye to Arthur, my last kitty, when he died of cancer, yet some folks express nothing but hate for the whole species. I get that certain animals may not be a good match for certain people, but blanket condemnations?
Then again, we have come to expect casual condemnations at every level of life: pronouncing someone’s spouse inadequate, someone’s interests lame, or someone’s politics worthy of hell. That it should trickle down to whoever is no surprise.
We love that breed, too. And we once had TWO Jack Russells in our house. Like you, we admired their wisdom, respect and affection. I once saw a Washington Post reporter describe a dog as “an overcaffeinated Jack Russell puppy,” and I wondered how she could know that the pup really was overcaffeinated.
Yes, a caffeinated Jack Russell puppy would be indistinguishable from an uncaffeinated Jack Russell puppy.
That’s a cute dog you have, Jack. The arrogance of some people! (That is what I attribute the stranger’s remark to – a common trait of people in the DC area, that I encountered often during the years I lived there – the “IMITY Syndrome” (pronounced, EYE-mighty, for “I’m More Important Than YOU!”)).
I am curious about what you feed Rugby. Now that I think about it a little more, Rugby’s breed might be ideal for also me and my wife for our next dog (empty nesters, diminishing in our lifting capacities, current owners of a 100-pounder, not likely to own vast acreage anytime). Does Rugby play ball?
We feed Rugby those little square containers that have a thousand flavors like “lasagna.” with the Westy as it logo. Can’t ever think of the name. Some Jack Russells, like Dickens, are ball chasing fanatics. Rugby likes to chase (and return!) things, but he very partial to tug-o-war. Jacks make up their own games, and from my experience and from talking to other owners, like to throw objects back, or begin a game that way.
Best of all, they will cuddle until you decide to get up, when ever it is.
The brand is Cesar, I believe.
Now, while I was not there, I can’t tell how much of an insult was actually intended.
If her only exposure to the “breed” was the dog on Frasier, her comment could have been made as a joke. If it were me, I would have simply responded that he normal size for the breed.
But, it’s odd that you can equate mocking a dog with bigotry after describing a Parson Russell Terrier as a “faux monstrosity.” Now that I think about it, that phrase makes no sense. Is it a fake monstrosity, or a real one? Or, is it a monstrosity as a poseur?
-Jut
That should have been “faux, monstrous” perhaps.
It’s “faux” because the AKC tried to grab dominion over the breed and turn it into one more show-dog version of what was once a real, live, dog-dog, as it has done to so many other breeds. The Jack authorities fought the invasion, which is why there are now three breeds, two masquerading as Jack Russells but both manufactured to size and breed specifications, and the breed that Parson Jack Russell intended when be mixed a white terrier, a bulldog, and dash of hound to get a friendly, intense and relentless rabbit-hunter.
As for “monstrous,” one definition of the word monster is a “strange and imaginary” creature. That is a fair description of the AKC sort-of Jack Russells.
I object to what the AKC has done to the breed. I have nothing against the dogs themselves—they are still dogs: I’d get a rescue of either in a second. Oh–the day before my unpleasant encounter, I was walking Rugby past a bus stop, and women whipped around and said—“Hey! That’s a real Jack Russell, isn’t it?”
Damn right.
The the two dogs on Frasier confused everyone. The original was a small (but not inappropriately small) rough-coat Jack Russell. His replacement, which looked nothing like him (You want a bigotry analogy, it would be like quietly trying to replace Samuel L. Jackson with Larry Fishburne on a TV series and assume nobody would notice) was a long-legged, broken-coat Parson Russell Terrier.
And yes, that’s the brand. I repress the name because of the spelling.
Yes, criticizing someone’s furbaby is up there with a random critique of children or a spouse. Why? Just why? It serves no positive good.
We have a mixed-Jack Russell/chihuahua. As you can imagine he’s a high-strung ball of energy. But we love him, warts and all. As a dog owner who’s lost a beloved pet in the past, I know how gut-wrenching it is. I can’t imagine overhearing some callous fools picking on the little guy in his hour of need.
We’re changing vets due to some callous behavior on the part of ours, at a clinic I’d taken our pets to for 20 years. Evidently the original vet sold the clinic; I knew he was going to retire but thought he was still managing it, and so continued to go there despite the staff changes. The new staff are terrible and were unsupportive and unfeeling when our dog was dying a year ago…it was too late to go to a new vet at that juncture though, it was going to be just a matter hours ( a day or two at most) until he passed.I took our cats there when we first got them last year as it was just shots, but I’d never take a sick or dying animal there again. I have some recommendations from friends and am in the process of choosing a new vet.
I’m sorry that happened to you, Jack. It’s unforgivable. People like that shouldn’t work around animals.
You could have also pulled a Winston Churchill: “Well, madam, Rugby can lose this little bit of excess weight any time he or I choose. You, however, will likely be a nasty bitch for what remains of your pointless, husbandless, miserable existence.:
I too had a true Jack named Finale for 14 years! He was the most awesome, mischievous crazed creature I have ever owned. He was a “puddin” type, meaning he was small and tenacious and could”earn his pudding” by working. We lived in the country and he spent many happy hours digging holes and ridding the land of mice and chipmunks amoung many other creatures. He was obsessed with balls and would play till he dropped. Inside he was an avid watcher of TV, mostly Animal Planet. I could go on and on about things he could do. Smartest dog I have ever seen. I would have another in a flash if I could find a non AKC , true Jack like him. Miss him so. His best friend was a Rottweiler. Another wonderful breed that is much maligned
Sounds very much like our first Jack Russell. Once, at a lawn party we held, he brought balls to the guests and chased every throw for five straight hours, walked into the house after saying goodbye to every guest, fell over on his side, and remained there, unmoving, for 15 hours.
Then he woke up and brought me a ball to throw. (He always flipped them to us.)
I live in Virginia, and there are many true Jack breeders around, especially in nearby Maryland.
After looking at your dog, if I was asked to discribed him my answer would be….Happy!
That couldn’t be truer. More than once, when Rugby encounters a new friend on his walks, the first thing they say is “What a happy dog you have!”
I thought maybe you might have been somewhat oversensitive to a stranger’s insensitive but offhand comment, but that’s just my opinion. However, the scene you described at Dickens’ specialist visit goes beyond the pale. Veterinary specialists are pricey, but you were most willing to pay in what you probably knew would be an unfavorable prognosis. Paying to hear your companion mocked and ridiculed is unacceptable.
I’m fairly unconfrontational but would have gone absolutely nuts. M girlfriend, who is anything but unconfrontational, would have probably ended up talking with the police.
It was, and normally, I would have gone nuts myself. But I was so focused on my dog, I let it go.
Jack,
Different situation — However, as the owner of a cat whom I regularly walk, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to deal with the snickers of dog-walkers who watch as Izza will quiver slightly when they pass by or she’s barked at. What’s even worse are those who feel they’re justified in intentionally directing her to their dog’s attention or taunting her.
More than once I’ve been tempted to respond with similar indignation and yell: “She’s exhibiting a rational response to being confronted with a predatory animal 2-3 times her size and you’re lucky she doesn’t feel cornered enough to strike out because she’d could easily kill your mangy slobber-machine.” What most infuriates me is that, as with your example, no one would DREAM of doing such a thing in a similar situation involving a child.
How people treat animals may not necessarily be reflective of how they’ll treat human animals, but if you can’t even offer them basic empathy and respect, they likely similarly incapable of exhibiting those traits towards people as well.
I would have gone with the bitch comment. My grandmother, however, would have smiled and sweetly said “I guess that’s something the two of you have in common.”
I completely understand your frustration. I have a German Shepherd who will free stack In the classic shepherd pose just because it’s comfortable. Strangers will come out of nowhere to tell me he must have hip dysplasia. And the black birthmark on his tongue must mean that he has chow in him.
Unfortunately I don’t have my grandmother’s charm. Instead of something witty, I usually just give a scowl accompanied by a sarcastic “Really?”