You’Re A Star And Pets Are Biggest Fans

It was Andy Warhol who said everybody gets 15 minutes of fame once in their lifetime. Obviously he didn’t have any pets. We pet owners get our 15 minutes of fame every time we come home, or even from the next room.

Luckily these famous minutes happen in the privacy of our own homes.

For although we pet lovers may be polished and professional in our day-to-day dealings with people, we turn into certifiable lunatics when it comes to greeting, and being greeted by, our beloved pets.

Take this all-too-familiar scenario: In the workplace, we’re stressed out, frustrated and disappointed with the people we work with or for. Everyone, it seems, wears disguises, postures for personal gain, and has pretenses so thick you could slice them with a machete.

Finally it’s quitting time. You jettison off the 9-to-5 hamster-wheel-of-activity and begin your commute home to your sanctuary. Drained by energy vampires, you hope to gain strength overnight to make it back on to the hamster wheel tomorrow. Your brain’s on autopilot, your heart’s hardened, and alas you’re nearing your house. Sure, you’ve got a close family, but what are your chances of receiving a hero’s welcome from them? Of being re-energized, instantly and abundantly? That’s right — zero.

Even at my home, Almost Heaven Ranch. My children, Mikkel and Lex, are very close to good ol’ dad, but I don’t find their faces pressed against the window when I turn down the lane. What I can bet the bank on, what is as certain as death and taxes, is receiving a fur-flying, ticker-tape, curtain-opening, spotlight-hitting, round of thunderous a-paws (read applause) from our beloved dogs. This is despite the fact that I only drove down the lane to get the mail and was gone less than five minutes.

It doesn’t seem to matter that I just left. Scooter, a wirehaired fox terrier and, Sirloin, a black Labrador retriever, REEEALLY missed me, and thought I deserved another roaring welcome home!

As they wait for me to stop the pickup and get out, Scooter and Sirloin don’t feign a lack of interest or act hard to get. Sirloin never tells Scooter, “You go greet him, I don’t feel like it today.”

The routine’s always the same. Whenever my path crosses the dogs’ paths, no matter how short the separation, their liquid eyes dance with excitement and brim with love, and their tail turbo-chargers whip them into a delighted frenzy of fur. They charge to meet me like I’m wearing Milk Bone underwear or Bone cologne.

Yet, is this routine “ho-hum” for me? Am I cool, calm and collected?

Heck, no. Fur-get it! What happens next borders on the unreal. I, Dr. Marty Becker, veterinarian, author, consultant, educator and media personality, turn into a blithering idiot as I get out of my pickup and rush to meet the hairy-princess Scooter and Sirloin, the fur-king.

There I stand, all the false layers stripped away, masks removed and performances canceled. It’s my true self. Extra pounds, bad hair day, angry people, travel strains, no matter. Scooter and Sirloin come to the emotional rescue and allow me to marinate in the sheer love and joy of the moment. I immediately discard the stresses and strains of the day, the corners of my lips turn up into a smile, and I raise my voice so high you’d think I’d been hit with a low paw to the groin as I exclaim, “Sirloin, yuz is Daaaaddy’s boy, aren’t ya?” And, “Scooter, have you been a good girl today? Yeah, you have, you’ve been a goooood girrrrrllll?”

For those who consider your pets as your children, who count on their beacon of unconditional love, limitless affection and to-die-for-loyalty to guide you from the pressure cooker of work to the decompression chamber of home, I don’t need to explain just how much a necessity a greeting like that becomes as we continue racing down the high-tech, low-touch road we call life.

For those who don’t have pets, and wonder what all the fuss is about, consider this: Would you like, everyday, for someone to rush to greet you, and only you, like you were the biggest star in the universe?

“Hey kids, Dad’s home! Mikkel? Lex? Oh well.

“Scooter, you make Daddy proud. I missed you!”