RIP Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, 30 May 2000 (more or less) - 22 July 2017

Tiggy yesterday morning

The rescue ladies weren’t sure we deserved Tiggy.

Her first two years had been rough. Someone had taken her to an overcrowded Chicago animal shelter because, they said, they had “too many dogs.” When the rescue ladies found her there, she was matted and frightened and obese—a common ailment in dogs who have had poor nutrition. Spring her from the shelter, they thought, clean her up, feed her good food, give her lots of love, and she’ll make somebody a nice pet. Ten days later, she gave birth to four puppies.

Well, that solved the weight problem.

Tiggy was a good mom, so good her foster mom, Pat, thought she probably had raised puppies at least once before. And Tiggy was a good dog. Pat adored her. Whoever wanted Tiggy would have to pass a thorough inspection.

Alas, Tiggy wasn’t at her best the day we went to meet her. In just one week she had weaned her puppies, sent them off to college, and had a hysterectomy. And now Pat, her best friend, was letting strange people take her for walks around a huge and frightening pet store. “She’s a very honest dog,” Pat told us, and the hormonally challenged, terrified terrier honestly saw no reason to befriend us. “She’s probably not for us,” I said.

But for a week I couldn’t get Tiggy out of my mind. On paper she was exactly the dog we were looking for: a small but sturdy young adult female of good character. Maybe love at first sight wasn’t required. Maybe she really was the dog for us. I phoned Pat. “Probably not,” she said. “We don’t trust you. This dog needs a permanent home that is totally committed to her. She’s been tossed around enough in her short life.”

“That’s why I didn’t say yes last week,” I said. “I didn’t want to take her unless I was sure. Now I’m sure. If you’ll let us …”

Bless Pat, she let us, despite her misgivings. And Tiggy was a challenge. We named her Mrs Tiggy-Winkle after Beatrix Potter’s eponymous hedgehog, but she seemed to have no concept of names (had nobody ever called her anything?). She suffered from major separation anxiety: if we left her alone in her crate for even a few minutes, she’d get the runs. If we left her loose in the bedroom, she would try to chew down the door (at least that approach removes tartar). Car rides made her sick. She was afraid of brooms. She smelled bad. And that was just the first week.

Very soon, however, we observed small changes. She’d look up when her name was called. She’d agree to stay by herself for fifteen minutes, gradually lengthening the time she could spend on her own without panicking. She’d get excited when it was time to go for a walk (and wasn’t it always time?). The old smell of fear went away. She began offering tentative kisses.

Before our eyes she was turning into a typical little terrier—trusting, curious, impulsive, talkative, eager, playful, affectionate. She started telling us that we were, sadly, rather boring. So we brought her a lovely young cat who, we were told, enjoyed playing with dogs. Mistake! Over the course of a week or two, the two of them started dozens of games, but they couldn’t agree on the rules. Eventually the traumatized kitty found peace with a large, placid dog who never transformed into a guided missile heading straight for her.

Muffin & Tiggy, 2008

In April 2003, we changed our approach and brought her a small dog. Thus began an eleven-year symbiotic relationship. On walks, Tiggy announced every dog we passed; if the other dogs were big enough, Muffin lunged at them. At home, Tiggy learned obedience (loosely speaking) through repetition; Muffin learned by observing which of Tiggy’s actions led to treats. Together, the 12-pound miniature schnauzer mix (Tiggy) and the 10-pound toy poodle mix (Muffin) learned how to occupy the entire vast middle of a king-sized bed.

Muffin died in late 2014. By then Tiggy was 14 years old, losing her hearing, losing her teeth, and losing her compulsion to comment on every passing butterfly—but still eagerly looking forward to frequent long walks around the neighborhood.

In recent months Tiggy slept a lot. In March of this year, she had extensive dental surgery, from which she quickly recovered. But a couple of weeks ago, the problem returned. Something pathological was happening in her jaw and affecting her left eye as well. Terriers don’t like to complain, so we don’t know how much it hurt. But it was only going to get worse, and she was no longer a candidate for surgery.

With heavy hearts, we made the dreaded final appointment with her doctor. We still had a morning to spend together, so I took Tiggy for her last one-mile walk. It was a slow walk, but she enjoyed sniffing the grass (so many dogs!) and touching noses with a neighbor’s baby dachshund. Then to the office of her kindly vet where, at noon yesterday, she “gave up the ghost, and died in a good old age, an old [dog], and full of years; and was gathered to [her] people.”

Yesterday and today, we’ve been going through hundreds of photos and reminiscing about her younger days. There she is, climbing into the dishwasher to be sure every plate is well rinsed. Methodically tossing sofa and bed pillows to the floor. Playing tug-o’-war with David and doing physical therapy exercises with me. Levitating onto tables bearing unguarded food. Arranging pieces of kibble in formations that look like interrupted games of battleship. Snuggling next to many of her human friends. A good dog. An honest dog. A beloved dog.

Rest in peace, little one. Or, if you’d rather, go chase a rabbit. You won’t catch it, but you can run forever. Where you have gone, there are no fences.

What's missing in the fight against puppy mills

Another day, another puppy-mill outlet.

I was distressed to learn yesterday that Naperville, Illinois - the next town over from where I used to live, and in most aspects a very progressive community - is allowing yet another puppy-mill-sourced pet store to open within its limits. Some residents of this wealthy Chicago suburb are rising up in predictable - and entirely justifiable - outrage (the blog post I just linked to is headlined "Naperville: The puppy mill outlet capital of America").

The blogger says she isn't trying to shut down pet stores; she just wants them to "go humane...to switch to an adoption model with rescue dogs instead of continuing to sell puppies at the expense of the parent dogs left behind in puppy mills...breeding litter after litter."

[My favorite pound puppies]

I get that. I got my own little dogs through a rescue group many years ago. Tiggy the mini-schnauzer mix was a young mother whose previous owners surrendered her, very pregnant, to the pound because, they said, they had "too many dogs." Muffin the toy poodle mix (and empress of the universe) was running wild in one of Chicago's meaner streets when animal control picked her up. The dogs are now at least 13 years old, and I love them dearly. I am a big fan of rescue groups and of the people who work tirelessly so animals will have better lives.

But something important is missing from nearly every call to shut down puppy mills. Folks, we've got to look at why puppy mills exist in the first place. It isn't just so the people who run them can make money. It's because lots of people want puppies.

Try this thought experiment: Imagine that every puppy mill in the U.S. was shut down, and every dog owner made sure their dog was spayed or neutered, and every pet store worked with shelters and rescue groups to re-home rescued dogs. A lot fewer dogs would be discarded, to be sure, and a lot more discarded dogs would quickly find homes, and that would be wonderful.

But very quickly all the available puppies would be gone, along with all the bright and attractive young-adult dogs, and the only dogs left would be the old ones, the ugly ones, the dangerous ones - the very dogs that are so hard to place right now.

And then where would people go to get puppies?

Good breeders, you say? Have you ever tried to find one?

The Humane Society publishes an excellent document called "How to find a responsible dog breeder." If you're looking for a puppy, you should read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest it. But it has two problems, if we really want to solve the nationwide puppy-mill problem. First, such a breeder tends toward very small-scale operations and "doesn't always have puppies available." More realistically, such a breeder tends to have puppies available once every year or so, and the waiting list may be extremely long.

The second problem is that such a breeder requires you to "sign a contract that you will spay or neuter the dog unless you will be actively showing him or her." The aim, of course, is to cut down on unwanted puppies. The result, however - if all breeders followed the Humane Society's guidelines (this is a thought experiment, right?) - would be that the only available dogs would be potential show dogs.This could lead to genetic problems with the whole dog nation. It would certainly lead to extremely high prices for puppies. And there would be no more havanoodles and schnorkies and goldendoodles.

What's missing in the fight against puppy mills is a long-term solution. Shutting down the mills, adopting rescued dogs, spaying and neutering pets--good as these things are, they are all interim solutions. We need to come up with new ways to provide healthy, happy (but not necessarily purebred) pups at a reasonable price to families who can't afford potential show dogs, and whose children want a dog now and not three years in the future when their name finally comes up on the responsible breeder's waiting list.

One way to accomplish this would be strict regulation (with frequent inspection and adequate enforcement) of all pet breeders nationwide. I'm guessing this won't happen: it would cost money, and taxpayers who aren't willing to fix the ten percent of American bridges in urgent need of repair probably aren't going to open their wallets to help puppies.

So what's the solution? I wish I knew. One thing I never read about: large-scale (or even back-yard) puppy breeders who take good care of their dogs. Do these people exist? If so, could we learn more about them? Could we hold them up as examples?

Shaming cruel puppy mills is important, but it hasn't shut many of them down. Offering practical alternatives might be more effective. Can we do both?

What ideas do you have about better ways to connect puppies with the people who want them? Please comment!