A Dog's Life

In this excerpt, a journalist from Lagos has just arrived for a stay in the Washington, D.C., area.

Americans in general are in love with pets, and dogs appear to be especially popular. This happened to be one of my earliest encounters and discoveries, and I have since gone beyond this to contemplate how the sociology of dog-owning, dog-keeping, and dog-walking is a possible measure of the temperament of this society. I may in fact add that a dog was one of the first Americans that I encountered--indeed, one of my first hosts.

After a few airline delays, I found myself in the warm embrace of my host family: Stanley Meisler, a journalist; his wife; and their dog--a nine-month-old robust beauty of a puppy. Dog Meisler also understands human language: He sits when he is asked to do so, and he loves to be taken for a walk. For the 72 hours or so that I stayed with Stanley and Elizabeth, Dog Meisler proved to be a significant American presence.

He has a whole room all to himself. His owners (they prefer the word "parents") speak of his "pen," but I thought a room should be called what it is.

I confess that I am indifferent to dogs. I am so busy thinking of tomorrow that I refuse to be tied down to the present by the friendship of animals. Dog Meisler, however, failed to understand. Determined to be a good host, anytime he saw me, he came jumping, struggling to lick my clothes, feet, etc. "He does not bite and he will not," I was repeatedly told. "Sit, sit," his owners say. And they stroke his hair. And soon, he is taken for a walk.

You need to see Dog Meisler take his meals. He has his own plates and his own kind of food. He drinks milk and is cuddled like a human being. I have never seen such a level of rapport between an animal and human beings: The entire process seemed to me like the humanization of Dog Meisler--a point that was played out the day I was supposed to leave. We woke up that morning to find the dog with a bad cough. He growled more deeply than usual, and soon he began to vomit. His owners were immediately depressed and concerned, and I was sympathetic. A veterinary doctor was contacted, and Dog Meisler received prescriptions over the phone. Stanley was to go to a pharmacy to pick up the drugs. I went with him. And behold, a set of drugs were handed over, with a receipt issued in Dog Meisler's name.

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