When Zinnia came, I put up a puppy gate at the door to my study. Zinnia comes in to sit with me while I write, and my study has become a safe and quiet place for her to go to chew on her marrow bones without interference from the other dogs.

I appreciate having her around, and the fact that she wants to be here with me when I work. I take being her steward very seriously.

Zinnia was outside when I started to work, and I didn’t know Maria had let her inside. She didn’t whine or bark, she just sat silently waiting for me to open the gate. When I turned around, wondering where she was, I saw a face that I am not always capable of saying no to.

I thanked her for being patient, and let her in; she is sleeping next to me now.

More and more, I am drawn to the idea of stewardship when it comes to defining how I view my responsibility to my dogs.

This idea has always been inside of me but has settled and focused in recent years.

I don’t contribute to the divisions that wrack the animal world. I don’t tell other people how to get a dog, or how to raise or train a dog. I relate my ideas and experiences. This offends some people anyway, but I can handle it.

We are losing the notion of accepting or even tolerating different ways of thinking, I will continue to fight for mine.

Stewardship is an old idea; it appears in the Bible (Dominion), and is often used in business (profit). The definition I favor is from Merriam-Webster, and it fits my ideas about dogs: “the careful and responsible management of something entrusted to one’s care.

There are many theories about how to treat dogs: strong leadership, positive reinforcement, pack training, benign and malign neglect,  and of course, the ancient Christian idea of dominion: we are superior to them, and they exist to serve us.

In Genesis, the Bible says that human beings were granted “dominion over the beasts of the field,” and although many Christian writers argued for treating animals mercifully, the idea of dominion has shaped Western views of animals.

In biblical Hebrew, where Genesis first appeared, the word “dominion” is said by scholars to refer to a hierarchy – someone in a position of power over inferiors.

There are new, better and sometimes worse ideas.

The animal rights movement founders argued that animals are equal to humans and should not be owned by them or used by them for financial gain. They are driving many animals from our world.

The rescue movement has mushroomed rapidly since the Internet. It sometimes promotes the idea that animals like dogs are abused by many humans and should be rescued, and that people who buy dogs and their breeders are complicit in the death and slaughter of many animals like dogs and cats.

Some people believe that all breeders – good and bad – are evil and should be banned. Some people believe that all rescue people and cat lovers are crazy.

It is widespread now for people to condemn the very idea of buying dogs and instead see the acquisition of dogs and cats as primarily a moral decision, not a personal or practical one. This is too narrow for me. Good breeders have a powerful incentive to breed healthy and sound dogs, their livelihood depends on it.

Irresponsible breeders, like irresponsible rescue groups, should be regulated and in some cases, banned, as they are in many countries.

I know many dog lovers reject the reality that good breeders promote the very best traits in dogs just as good rescue workers save countless dogs from misery. In the dog world as in the political world, the middle seems to be vanishing. I think it’s true that the Internet is a vast polarization system.

People once avoided getting “abused” dogs, fearing behavioral problems. Today, abused dogs are in great demand, and many people attribute any (often inevitable)  behavioral issues with dogs to their having been “abused.”

Although there are plenty of needy dogs in cities like Newark and Detroit, people with money go to great lengths to import “abused” dogs from other countries. No one attacks them for buying their dogs.

Some people see dogs as lawn ornaments; some ban them to basements and backyards when they struggle to train them, or lose interest after puppyhood or get them as toys for the children who frequently abandon them when they grow older.

In many ways, the new work of dogs is making human beings feel better about themselves and their disconnected and troublesome world. That is hard and very new work for dogs, perhaps one reason hundreds of thousands of dogs now are on anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medication.

We are making them as crazy as we are.

I choose stewardship as my approach. It seems sane to me. The challenge of stewardship is about understanding what we need as opposed to what the dog needs, and putting the dogs ahead of us and our small thinking.

I am responsible for my dogs. That means choosing them carefully and thoughtfully, training them wholeheartedly and lovingly for all of their lives, ensuring that they suffer no more pain than is necessary, helping them to leave the world in comfort and dignity.

It also means recognizing that they are beautiful animals, not people with fur, or furbabies, or just like us.

I avoid the dogmas and heresies of the dog world. I sometimes rescue dogs, sometimes buy them.  I reject the advice of anyone who tells me how to get a dog. I can make that decision for myself, and cherish the opportunity.

I love getting a dog cheaply or for free, but I do not resent or object to paying for them; it is appropriate.  I understand there are good breeders and bad breeders, good rescue groups and bad ones, good shelters, and bad shelters. In our time, dogs have become a multi-billion business.

Rescue dogs are far from free in most cases.

Getting a dog involves walking through a vast minefield of options, for people and dogs,  many of them bad for dogs and people. The way through the minefield is patience, research, thoughtfulness, and self-awareness. What do I need from a dog? What does he or she need from me? What issues do I bring to my life with a dog?  How can I help them to live safely and contentedly?

How can I choose them wisely and well?

Many people disagree with my theories about dogs. Teri wrote this morning to call me a snob and tell me she doesn’t want to be friends with Maria or me:

“Your opinions about dogs are very lopsided. I appreciate your belief, however, I think you are a snob, and people that cannot afford the $2500 that you paid for Zinnia (a great little dog) should feel that they can go to the shelter and get a great dog. Not a high priced entitled breed, but a good dog for a family.

I try every day to read your blog and Maria’s, and more and more, I find you to be the type of people that I would not want to have in my circle of friends. To opinionated and exclusionary.”

It is an interesting message, most of all, because I don’t disagree with a word she wrote. In many ways, I have become a reluctant snob, driven there by the runaway exploitation of dogs and their well being by needy and selfish humans.

But Teri is the first person in my life to call me one. I suppose it was inevitable.

My opinions are lopsided, for sure,  they are my opinions, and I hope they stay that way. Thoreau’s opinions were lopsided too, bless him. I don’t want to have the same ideas as everyone else. What would be the use of me?

Of course, people who don’t have $2,500 should get a dog any way they can, and of course, there are plenty of great dogs in animal rescue and shelters – I just got a great one, his name is Bud.

In a sense, stewardship means stepping back from the “left-right” narrow mindedness that is destroying our political system and infecting the animal world. Stewardship is about what’s best for the dog, not for us. It asks us to be open-minded and selfless.

As a steward, I will not permit my dog to live in great pain for a minute more than is necessary, even if I hate to see them go. Nor will I subject them to complex, painful and expensive medical procedures that they can’t understand or possibly agree to.

Stewardship is about seeing my dogs and all of my animals clearly for who they are, and it’s about taking responsibility for their safety, health, and well-being. I try very hard not to exploit my dogs by putting my needs over theirs.

Often, I fail. Sometimes, I succeed, and that is satisfying and meaningful to me. Stewardship has brought me many wonderful dogs, Zinnia is a treasure and I am lucky to have her. I will do the best I can for her in every possible way.

To me, that is what being a steward means.