It's a dog's life

And it's not half bad. Even in a recession, Americans bow to the slobbering, shedding, fiercely loyal king of pets.

By Stephanie Hanes | Correspondent

from the August 2, 2009 edition

Page 1 of 3

Washington - Not far from the White House is a building with a large fire hydrant built onto its facade and a new poop-bag dispenser in the entry. This is Wagtime – one of the city's most popular doggy day-care operations. Here, every rush hour, owner Lisa Schreiber greets a steady stream of business-suited customers, offering heartfelt words about how nicely Cookie or Chloe or Oliver played today.

She knows each pooch. Not just their moods and proclivities, but also their diets (low fat or grain-free, allergic to chicken, preference for duck) and their medicines (for the heart, the joints, the jitters). This is impressive, given that on any day there are around 60 canines at Wagtime, either in the big-dog romp area, or in the upstairs small-dog playroom with attached roof deck. And judging by the reaction of the "mommies and daddies" – there are no "owners" here – it is also much appreciated. Ms. Schreiber is thinking of starting a waiting list for the full-time, $900-a-month slots.

For many in the dog world, Schreiber explains, pet day care is no more of a luxury than preschool. Buying high-end dog food feels no more frivolous than serving organic fruits and vegetables; Prozac for the pup no more outrageous than Ritalin for the teenager.

"When we were growing up, I had an American Eskimo [dog]," Schreiber says. "We didn't get him fixed, we fed him the grossest food. We didn't know better. Today we do ... and people want to do what's best for them ... their dogs are like their children. They're definitely members of the family."

And here, dear readers, some of you are rolling your eyes. Wagtime, it seems to you, is the latest example of American excess, the follies of self-absorbed urban yuppies. Add it to the list of jaw-dropping true dog stories – puppy facials, Chihuahua birthday parties, robes offered to weary canine travelers at the posh W Hotel chain – as proof that priorities are out of whack.

Others of you, however, are smiling at the thought of the Wagtime wards wiggling and wagging in that delighted, exuberant, puppy dog way. You probably live in one of the 60 percent of American households with pets. Almost half of you, according to the American Veterinary Medical Association, consider your dog or cat a family member, and another 40 percent describe the animal as a companion.

Perhaps you're not the doggy day-care type yourself, and perhaps you live in the suburbs and believe that office-bound city dwellers should not own a dog. But you understand the inclination – after all, the American Animal Hospital Association found that 83 percent of you call yourself your pet's "mommy" or "daddy."

Most of you, though, will have some gut reaction to Wagtime. And this is because it represents something larger than itself – a widespread cultural trend, a phenomenon that could easily be called America's pet revolution.

This revolution is bolstered by the country's exploding pet population, which James Serpell, of the University of Pennsylvania's School of Veterinary Medicine, estimates has increased threefold since the 1960s. It is spurred on by the apparently recessionproof pet industry, which has grown to $46 billion this year from $17 billion in 1994, according to the American Pet Products Association. (This isn't a coastal phenomenon, by the way. You Midwestern pet owners outspend Northeasterners by more than $1 billion.) And while many experts say there are deep roots to our pet obsession, there is something substantially different about the role we now give to the animals that share our homes.

This is particularly true for the slobbering, shedding king of pets – the domesticated American dog.

Although there are more cats than dogs in the US – 93.6 million compared with 77.5 million, according to the American Pet Products Association – about half of American households have dogs, compared with the approximately 30 percent with cats. (This is because cat owners are likely to have more than one.) And perhaps because of the dog's more public status, or because of the positive personality traits we attach to the canine (there's a reason a Gallup poll found that 26 percent of cat owners describe themselves as "dog people"), it is the dog that has nuzzled his way to the forefront of our pet revolution. Love him or hate him, Fido is changing American society – in ways municipal and medical, emotional and economic, social and scientific – as never before.

AT THIS POINT, FULL JOURNALISTIC DISCLOSURE may be necessary. I am typing this article next to my Labrador retriever, Karoo, who is lying on the monogrammed, L.L. Bean bed ($104.95) I bought for him earlier this year. Although I have never taken him to doggy day care, I have used the services of a pet travel agent ($1,600, including crate and airplane ride, with a layover at KLM Royal Dutch Airline's five-star cargo pet hotel). We have also gone together to puppy socialization classes ($100), dog-training sessions (multiple $100s), dog-friendly hotels (too embarrassed to say), and dog hydrotherapy rehab (far, far more than what I'll get paid for this story).

After the pet-food recall two years ago, I upgraded to an expensive kibble ($25 for a 15-pound bag) that promises to deliver the grain-free, protein-rich goodness of bison-filled prairies.

Karoo seems to like it. Karoo also seems to like dead frogs and various other unprintable edibles.

But I keep handing over the cash – despite a year of personal finance that the experts would describe as flat-out depressing. I do this because I believe this food is healthier, and that I owe my dog the very best. Who else has stuck by my side – snuggle-ready, tail-wagging – through a career shift, a divorce, and an intercontinental move?

All of this makes me a rather predictable member of the smiling group, says Michael Dillon, an independent consultant whose Dillon Media analyzes the pet industry. Even in the recession, pet owners – especially we childless ones – continue to spend.

"The emotional bond makes this industry unique," Mr. Dillon says.

In his recent book, "One Nation Under Dog," Michael Schaffer delves into this phenomenon.

Page 1 | 2 | 3 | Next Page