Disclaimer: This is about that moment when a dog dies in a movie.
My cat of 16 years died this morning. And here I am, writing a piece about why we kill dogs in movies and books. Maybe Jack London is to blame. Or Fred Gipson. Or Wilson Rawls? I mean seriously, fuck off Wilson Rawls!
In 1956, Fred Gipson comes out with the novel Old Yeller about a farm boy who gets a dog, names said dog Old Yeller, mainly because the dog’s bark sounds more like a human yell than a dog’s, (which is unsettling in its own right) then proceeds to put the dog down at the end of the book. Because, you know, life be like that sometimes.
Five years later, Wilson Rawls slides through with a major “hold my beer” moment, or in this case tears, and drops Where The Red Fern Grows where a boy learns about life by raising not one, but two dogs. And oh yeah, at the end of this book, BOTH dogs die. Savage moves Mr. Rawls. Who hurt this guy am I right?
Now, this may age me in the process, but I listened to this book ON TAPE with my family on a road trip through Arizona. I must have been eight, no later than nine, processing my first experience of death, realizing that I too, one day, will be put down.
And maybe that’s why we do it? Because we love dogs? And maybe it’s easier to process something hard, beyond our comprehension by you know, doing it to a sweet pup. I mean, I saw Marley and Me in the movie theater which is an act of sadism in its own right that I’ll have to unpack eventually. It’s not like I read the book though clearly the life hack for success is to write a story, kill the dog, make millions.
I remember walking to my seat in the theater, making eye contact with the strangers in my row, sharing that mutual understanding, I give a slight nod to the person next to me, both to acknowledge that I respect their game for mixing popcorn + bunch a crunch and to connect and realize that yup we are all in this theater together for one thing- to heal.
And sure enough, when Owen Wilson gears up to tell Marley what a good pup she’s been, we all went to that same place. Maybe Marley reminded us of our dog, our cat, or our grandparents, or a feeling we yearned for, to love something as unconditionally and to be loved back, no complications or compromises. It never fails.
Isn’t the first John Wick movie about a dude who goes on a revenge tour to find the people who killed his dog, which was a gift from his deceased wife? I mean nobody wants a movie about a guy who’s just dealing with the pain of losing a spouse. Nah, spice it up. Give us something we can all relate to, not everybody supports the idea of marriage, but we all love dogs. More than we love each other at this point right?
Think about all the chaos surrounding our world today. If we really loved one another like we did our pets, maybe we’d all agree to wear a mask. If we really loved each other, truly loved one another, maybe we could stop the unjust killings and police brutality, maybe we wouldn’t be okay with separating migrant children from their parents.
Just think about it. A news story breaks out across the world, a new study finds that global warming has a direct impact on the fertility of golden retrievers and if we don’t do something to combat it, all golden retrievers will be extinct by 2035. Humans would recycle like you’ve never seen. The talking head that once bashed renewable energy will be installing solar panels on their house this weekend.
So go home, watch I am Legend, Or My Dog Skip, or read Marley and Me and then watch the movie, and be a full-on masochist. Cry it out. Let it go. And ask yourself why we tell our pets we love them so much day in and day out, yet why is it so hard to do that to ourselves, our friends, our families, or to the stranger on the bus, ideally six feet away. A dog is a man’s best friend, I get it. But we really need to start being better friends to each other…man.
