[Finny]

Well ... so so ... but I think that treating dogs like people and putting them on the same level as people are two different things. It's a fine line, I know ... and both are bad, but of the two I think the second is worse, although I suppose I sound hypocritical because I so firmly beleive that dogs and cats especially, if not all mammals, are worthy of dignity. My dad, who has immense respect for dogs but any dog around my dad knows who's boss (hint: it ain't the dog), always had a faint contempt for "pet" dogs because to him, it was an insult to their dignity. I agree about the "dignity" thing, but I have long disagreed with him on one point, and that is that the ridiculous, beribboned frilly little poodles which perpetually nestled in the arms of my great aunties and yapped at visitors, didn't have a job. They did. My beloved grandmother-in-law had a woefully undisciplined cocker spaniel, but that dog had a job and did it beautifully -- he kept Grandma entertained and spiritually hopeful and healthy. Those dogs, too, have dignity of a sort. Not a manly dignity (!), but dignity nonetheless and a very useful and worthy purpose.

The farm life may be great for the dog's owners, who can just set food out for them and work them when they want, or just let them fend for themselves completely, but don't think for a second you are doing the dog any favors with that life.

You completetly lose me there. Only trash people treat their workmates so shoddily. On the contrary, the cowboys (I'm talking cowdogs on ranches, not farm dogs) loved their dogs, took great pride and derived great joy from them, and the dogs did the same. You really had to see it to believe it, but it was true. There was a relationship between man and dog, in the working cowboy or ranch sense, that was beyond description. The only words that come to mind are joy, verve, and humor, as often the dogs had senses of humor and pulled jokes on people and livestock, fully aware of what they were doing, and loving being part of a laughing, fun work environment. I am certain that those dogs lives, if they were shorter (and you'd be surprised at how old those noble old fellows got and how well loved and cared for they were in thier dotage, because the cowboys who owned them felt indebted to them) were indeed more blessed with joy and happiness than a dog whose world revolves around a nine-to-five owner and a quarter-acre backyard. Don't think for a second otherwise.

[Finny]

I should qualify ... my dad had faint contempt not for the "pet" dogs themselves, but for the owners who indulged in having them ...

Also, regarding shooting errant dogs rather than finding homes for them ... again, dogs aren't people and they aren't on the same level as people. People who insist otherwise think of dogs more as "special" people. Errant cowdogs dogs weren't just "being their natural selves," they were being deliberately disobedient. Period. The cowdogs of which my dad had to dispatch a few for being incorrigible were way too smart and aware of the world around them not to know exactly what they were doing. They weren't following their instincts to kill livestock, they were rebelling against "the boss," and as such, were a liability to the ranch. They were dogs, not people, and thinking that the most morally responsible thing is "finding a loving home" then or now is for city people who think dogs are on the same levels as people, except "special." They aren't, and the reason the ranch dogs had such great lives is, paradoxically, because of that. They were treated with respect, not condescension. They blew it -- they "went for the long walk" and didn't come back. Moral obligation fulfilled.