As an animal welfare worker, I get several calls a week –
sometimes several calls a day – about abandoned, lost, tortured, homeless dogs.
Of late, I average five phone calls a week about abandoned Labradors alone.
Five. A week. Each week.
In the past year, I have fostered over 25 dogs, ranging from
tiny 4-week-old puppies to an aging 10-year-old whose “family” threw him out
because of an ear infection that may
have been cancerous. (It wasn’t.)
Two months ago, I fell victim to a six-year-old Labrador who
came to me about 12 kilograms underweight with a grey greasy coat, one eye
sealed shut and a terrified, nervous disposition. We adopted each other. I
named her Serene. The ‘Before’ picture is Serene, just before she came to me to
be fostered; the ‘After’ picture is Serene, now. I’ve changed how I live, we
love each other dearly, we make this thing work.
But you shouldn’t do it. You shouldn’t adopt a Labrador. Not
if you’re going to turn into one of those five-a-week people. I’m dead serious.
To show you exactly how serious I am, I’ve made a long list of all things
Labrador. Read it. And don’t ever adopt a Labrador if you shudder or grimace
even once, while reading.
1.
Labradors love. They love food, they love rain,
they often love water even to the point of enjoying baths, they love adult
humans, they love baby humans, they tend to love puppies and adult dogs as
well. They love. And they show this love by brandishing a very massive tail
that can often be mistaken for another separate entity attached to their behinds.
If you adopt a Labrador, be prepared for unintentional but certain destruction.
I currently do not own anything that is breakable. I used to have glasses once,
out of which my guests would sip tea, juice, beer and wine. Now, I have steel
tumblers and they tumble quite regularly. Guests tumble too.
2.
If you love your personal space and are not a
fan of the Bombay-train-armpit-in-face living, avoid adopting a Labrador. A
Labrador will cuddle up in your armpit, snuggle into your crotch, sniffle near
your neck till the condensation drives you crazy, drool on your lap and
cheerfully snore three inches from your face. Your space will never be yours
again, your food will never be yours again. Neither will your heart, but this
is not a post that is aimed at encouraging
you to adopt a Labrador. So don’t do it unless you’re willing to sign off
everything that you think is only yours.
3.
Labradors shed. Like trees in autumn, only the
tree is a mass of fur, the leaves are fur, the flowers are fur, your clothes
are fur-lined, your bed linen is the resting place of the Ghosts of
Labrador-coat Past. If you are an inflexible cleanliness freak, don’t adopt a
Labrador. If you think you can change your ways and adapt to a fur-lined life,
read on. There are still enough reasons for you to never adopt a Labrador.
4.
Labradors throw caution to the wind. And by
wind, I mean the kind that breaks. They fart. They fart after a meal, the fart
during a meal, they fart in their sleep, they fart when they are lying next to
you in bed with their bums facing you. If farting were another way of showing
affection, Labradors would win paws down. If you have a sensitive nose, don’t
adopt a Labrador.
5.
Labradors eat. They eat a lot. Amongst the
several wonderful things that nature has bestowed upon the smiling beast,
knowing when to stop wolfing down food is not one. They will eat 500 grams of
rice, broken wheat, veggies and beef. Then they will burp and fart. Five
minutes later, when you’re fixing yourself the skinniest most boring whole
wheat bread and grilled vegetable sandwich, they will sit in front of you in a
pool of drool and stare. And burp. And fart. And drool. And stare. Don’t adopt
a Labrador if you don’t have a heart of steel and the ability to continue to
keep your eyes off the pleading dog and pretend to follow an episode of CSI:
Miami.
6.
Labradors want to be around you all the time. If
you go in for a shower and come out five minutes later, the Labrador is a Rush
fan at her first live Rush concert, somewhere right in front and you, you poor
sod, are Neil Peart. If you have stepped out for a meeting and return three hours
later, you are Anna Kournikova and your Labrador is that creepy, slightly drunk
guy asking you to marry him just before your second serve when your opponent
has three match points. If you
decide to embark on a weekend getaway, good luck while disembarking. Your
Labrador has called all her friends, stopped eating, mourned your loss and
named a street after you. When she sees you again, her tail will break
everything in sight, you will have to build a new house. If you don’t like
constant adulation, don’t adopt a Labrador.
7.
Halitosis.
Don’t.
To sum up, don't ever adopt a Labrador. Because why would you want to see a face like this for years and years and love it and feel content? Why would you want to be the happiest version of yourself?
