Almost-six-year-old Labradoodle, Juno, is a famed dog blogger. Follow her here for her thoughts on dog park politics and canine pedigree.
I was one of eight or so members of a litter of Labradoodles born at a Kamloops area breeder almost six years ago now. MaPaw and PaPaw came up shortly after we were born and picked me out of the litter as their next family pet. I was described as “sweet and sassy.” Based on only one visit, I fell in love with them both, and I think they with me. Years later, I realize the gift they are for me; jokingly Papaw says I chose the right house. Not exactly the case, but mostly true.
I am well aware that not all dogs enjoy such a beautiful upbringing or supportive home environment. Not all humans are ideal dog owners. Sometimes life circumstances overtake owners who must eventually surrender their pets to other persons or organizations. Sometimes, for whatever reason, dogs don’t make good pets. (Remember Chopper in the movie Stand by Me.) They need more space, or training, or a job (herding, chasing, comforting).
During a recent trip to Victoria, a city with a lively (and challenging) street scene I was surprised to see dogs living in encampments along the now infamous Pandora’s Block. Many humans cannot understand why and how persons living in poverty, and outside, have pets. Surely if you cannot provide a home for yourself for any reason, how can you care for a dog? Thinking about things, however, I came to the conclusion that these humans had a closer bond with their animals than with other humans. That says something, to me at least.
I know that PaPaw has almost finished a book, “Encampment: Resistance, Grace, and an Unhoused Community” by Toronto-based Anglican priest, Maggie Helwig . In her embrace of vulnerable persons in Toronto’s Kensington Market area, she describes a special relationship between human, Jeff, and his dog, Taurus:
I knew Jeff long before he lived in the yard, back when he shared an apartment with a girlfriend and came every week to a late-night art jam at the church, and as long as I had known him he was always with his adored and adoring dog, a German shepherd cross named Taurus.
Taurus was a very good dog, obedient to commands, friendly, much calmer in temperament than Jeff himself; after they ended up in the encampment, Jeff taught Taurus to alert to overdoses, and he became a lifesaving dog.
Taurus, a life-saving dog, not graduated from any training programme, but by nature aided by circumstance, a friend, an intervenor, a companion. Maggie’s story continues:
But big dogs have short lives, and Taurus was well into old age now, and it was starting to show. Though he and Jeff could curl up in a sleeping bag together at night and keep each other warm, the dog was finding the cold hard to handle during the day; on the frigid morning in February 2023 when Jeff’s mattress caught fire, I brought Taurus into the church, and he slept deeply for hours on a blanket in the warmest room in the building, reluctant to get up even to eat or drink water – though he leapt to his feet when Jeff arrived, and shuffled across the room to him instantly.
As the summer went on, we all began to notice that Taurus was losing weight, vomiting often, that his appetite was diminishing. In July, one of the workers at The Neighbourhood Group arranged for a vet who provided free care to homeless dogs to assess him, and the news was not good – advanced kidney failure, common in large dogs his age, but untreatable. The only possible goal was to keep him comfortable for the next few months.
Suffice it to say that the bond between Jeff and Taurus ran deep. “’I picked him up when he was just born,’ Jeff told me. ‘And we knew each other right away. We knew we belonged together. I said I’d always protect him.’”
Long and complex, I cannot (and need not) quote the full story here. (SPOILER ALERT Things don’t end well for Taurus or Jeff. Life is not a Disney movie.) Read Maggie’s book yourself. Order it from your local library or independent bookstore; it’s an excellent read and will open your eyes to the realities of encampment life. Only in Toronto you say? Not really. Homelessness is everywhere, in communities larger and smaller, in farmer’s fields, and in subway stations; on university campuses and in neighbourhood parks. A competitive and demanding economy not only takes resources from the earth. It takes life from anyone who is vulnerable. Avarice is cruel; avarice kills.
As Jesus reminds us, the poor will always be with us (Matthew 26:11). Therefore act accordingly. (Matthew 25:44-46) If we all treated each other as many of our dogs treated us, we would all be better off.
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Take Note - Reflections on life, music, politics, retirement and more by Ken Gray 
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