Caring for the animals we come to love

By Gary Rotto

SAN DIEGO — A friend called yesterday on the verge of tears. Her dog was very sick, so sick that a recovery was highly unlikely.  “I don’t know what to do. I know that a dog can’t be Jewish, but what’s the Jewish thing to do?”

Dogs, cats and many other pets place a special role in our modern lives. It is true, none of them can be Jewish per se, but they live in Jewish homes, homes in which we infuse Jewish values and traditions.  My friend knew that I had struggled with the “What’s the Jewish thing to do?” question in the past. In fact, I had lost a dear furry friend recently.

I seldom use the word “pet” to describe my furry friends.  Mugsy was my most recent. I didn’t treat him as an equal in the family, rather as a life for whom I was the guardian.  His health had been declining as he reached his 14^th birthday, and he was increasing on the decline since March.  And as with any death, it was difficult to say goodbye.

I was always secure in my role with my friend and with his predecessors.  I view our role as the humans in their lives as guardians.  I regard all life as precious – human and non-human. My view is influenced by the conception of dominion over all living creatures:

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” (Genesis 1:26)

I’ve viewed this statement not as having the right to do what we want with the lives around us, but rather that the supreme power in our world has entrusted us with what he/she has created.

Canine researchers have said that a dog has the intelligence of a two years old – from language abilities to behavior with other animals to even problem solving. They are smart, but they cannot fend for themselves. Which is why, when I agree to take in a dog, I view my role as a guardian, as the one to make the decisions that a dog cannot make or undertake the task that can’t be done by itself.

As Mugsy became increasing ill, I decided to look a little deeper into the relationship that we had have had with dogs. I had this image of ancient man sitting around a fire, roastiong meat, a few dogs sitting whining waiting for some scraps and then receiving a great bone to gnaw on.  The dogs would be happy, the human entertained. And the next day, they may go hunting for the next meal together, the dog taking down a type of fowl or wild beast and the human preparing the meal.

Curious about the great philosophical observations our forefathers, prophets and others had, I decided to consult the Torah. I was supremely disappointed to see dogs associated in the pejorative, basically viewed as low lifes.   There seemed to be no romantic version of man-and-dog dependency in our texts.

It’s interesting to contrast this with the Ain Mallaha settlement which existed about 16 miles north of the Sea of Galilee and was formed between 10,000-8,000 BCE.  At least one archaeological find shows an adult male with a 4-5 month old puppy buried together. While not widespread, this finding confirms that the modern bond between canine and human is long standing.  It seems to have become more prevalent in the post World War II era, though I do recall my dad, born before the war, mentioning a dog that his aunt had while he was growing up in Brooklyn.

Reflecting back on my Jewish home with my little blond furry friend, we experienced many things together. My daughter and I first adopted Mugsy on a summer evening. After swim team practice at the JCC, we drove north to San Clemente to meet with the organizer of a Pekingese rescue group who had a little dog for us to look at. From that first meeting, Mugsy was there for so many life experiences. He was my companion seeing me through a divorce, looking after my daughter on nights when she slept at my house and looking after me and listening to my tales of the workday on the days she was at her mom’s. He knew something special was happening on the weekend that Kelila became a Bat Mitzvah and welcomed the family over for the brunch on Sunday morning. He wore his Hanukkah sweater to celebrate the holiday as well as to keep warm on a cold night. He put his nose to the air to take in the aroma of my plum chicken when we hosted Shabbat dinner. He came to synagogue once a year – actually to the park near our synagogue – for our annual Blessing of the Animals. And he was there when I returned home from taking Kelila to college, to comfort me in my semi-empty nest.

And I attempted to fulfill my duty to this “living creature” as reference in the creation story.  I provided for him and he provided support to me. He was my best friend.  His time came and went soon after my daughter left for her second year of college.  It was not fully unexpected, but sooner than anticipated.

And so my friend had to make a difficult decision, one that the life for whom she guarded could not make. Those of us who have that bond with our furry friends mourn when they depart this life. My mourning is passing into memories as expressed in a wonderful scrapbook put together by my neighbors.  We may mourn differently than for a flesh-and-blood relative or for a human friend. But because we are guardians, we mourn for those who we loved because of our role in their lives, for the joy that they brought to our families and for all they witnessed in our life.  And I am thankful for the opportunity to have played a role in humanely looking after this important life. I may not have domination over all animals but together we provide that protection for life as envisioned in our ancient writing.

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Rotto is a freelance writer who may be contacted via gary.rotto@sdjewishworld.com.  Comments intended for publication in the space below MUST be accompanied by the letter writer’s first and last name and by his/ her city and state of residence (city and country for those outside the United States.)