Doing right by my dog, and getting a license: Editor’s Note

I am a pet owner, and at times it’s a dubious honor.

I have a dog that is not unlike Tigger. She doesn’t walk – she more or less bounces everywhere. “Everywhere” includes the bed, the car, or on top of me if I’m languishing on the couch.

She’s eaten several of my shoes.

She habitually sticks her tongue in my ear and up my nose – God forbid if I open my mouth when she’s in range.

She chases my cats, to the point that my living room resembles the chariot scene from Ben Hur, with three fur balls roaring around it.

She’ll try to steal food off my plate, when I’m not looking.

But she’s my dog. She has Doppler ears, big, round eyes, and a tail that never stops wagging.

She doesn’t listen unless she feels like it, has chewed holes in my shirts, and eats cardboard boxes. She looks like a space alien, but she’s my fur baby and I love her.

I don’t know what I’d do if I lost this little monster from a dog pound in Oregon.

Which brings me to my point.

I don’t have a lot of money, but thanks to some research I did for our front-page article, I am hoping to get my dog a license this Saturday at Kent Station.

I also have been roped into judging a pet contest that afternoon at the event, “Dog Daze & Feline Fantasies,” but that’s beside the point. That’s me putting my editor hat on and having fun. The contest will be great for some laughs, and perhaps some pooper-scooping, but getting a license for my dog will be a priority.

Why?

Because it’s not just my dog that stands to benefit from getting a license.

The fee I will pay – $30 – will go toward helping the many animals across King County that don’t have good care – or any care, for that matter. They are the unwanted cats and dogs that either get dumped out of cars, abandoned in their homes (see our front-page story today), or born into litters of animals that are already homeless.

Someone has to care for what other people opt to abuse or throw away. That responsibility has fallen to animal-regional services, operated by King County, with buy-in from a number of cities in the county, including Kent. There have been news stories questioning the quality of the shelter the county operates in Kent. But when the chips are down, and an animal is abused, this is our front line in getting them treated and safe.

My license fee helps provide some of the most basic funding for which those unwanted animals are in need – money for food, for vet care, for kenneling.

I wish this world were a place where all people who have pets are able to care for them. But it isn’t.

I’m willing to wager the majority of folks love, or have some kind of bond, with their pets. But for those who could care less, or who are struggling so much with financial issues that they can’t care for their animals, it’s heartening to know there is a line of defense for animals that otherwise will suffer enormously.

I could look upon purchasing a dog license as a hassle, an extra expense to my already-strapped household budget. Not to mention my shoe budget.

But knowing what I now know, there will be some sense of empowerment – of making a small difference – when I do the right thing and get my dog licensed.

Space alien or not.

But while I can afford to do this, I know there are others who simply can’t.

I’ve said this before and I’ll repeat myself here: King County must adopt a means by which those of limited incomes can still afford to license their pets. Even if it means installments.

Starting Oct. 2, if they are caught with an unlicensed dog or cat, that animal suddenly becomes a major liability – thanks to fines that can reach up to $250.

That kind of penalty can put pets right back where we don’t want them to be: disposed of like yesterday’s garbage.