Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Dog of the Day Site - CHARMING !!!!!

New York Times, Sunday, January 1, 2017, SundayStyles section, Page 6:



Fashion & Style | Noted

The Dog of the Day Site? I’m Obsessed, and Here’s Why

Photo
Cali, the Dog of the Day star on Dec. 15. “She follows us around all day,” her owner writes. “She also likes to lean on us, which I have heard is a habit of golden doodles.”
Bogie is athletic. She likes to walk, about four miles a day. She loves tetherball too, though she broke her leg in a recent game. Bogie can be shy and doesn’t always do well in group situations. She enjoys chewing on the head of one of her friends, who is a cat.
I discovered Bogie at Dog of the Day, a website that publishes reader-submitted biographies and photographs of endearing pooches. The site, along with its taxonomic brethren Cat of the Day and Pet of the Day, was founded in the late 1990s by Karen Watts, a Belmont, Mass.-based graphic designer and illustrator, and her husband, Paul Watts Jr., an information technology specialist. They were two 30-somethings with a computer and a dream: to build a website “that people would visit every day that was not pornography.”
A friend introduced me to Dog of the Day in 1998, when I was staring at the cubicle walls in my first corporate job. The charming canine stories and photographs guided me through those dark years, to a happier job and happier days. And the thanks I gave the website? I forgot about it, like a half-filled journal left to gather dust in the better times.
That is until one day late last year, when that same friend and I were sighing over a recent wave of bad news — personal, geopolitical — and she paused and asked me: Whatever happened to Dog of the Day?
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Absolutely nothing, thank God (or Dog). The site and its siblings look much as they did at the turn of the century. And each day’s homespun story of a beloved pet, whether from Wailuku, Hawaii, or Turner, Me., or most anywhere in between, is as lovely as those I remember.
As I’ve fallen in love with Dog of the Day in a new phase of my life, though, and reached out to talk to Ms. Watts, I’ve realized that what I like best about her site — its deep, seemingly easy reserves of animal-inspired goodness — is in fact an enormous labor for her, one that offers a window as much onto the complexity of human relationships as onto the simplicity of animal ones.
Take factionalism, in this age of it. Each day, Ms. Watts says, Dog and Cat of the Day duke it out for traffic stats. One day, virtuous Dog triumphs (hurray!). The next, treacherous Cat claws its way back on top. The only rule in this ancient struggle is that Pet of the Day — a sort of D.M.Z. where Ms. Watts attempts to interest readers in such charmers as Spike, a porcupine from Edmonton, Alberta, who “has no idea what a threat is and therefore his quills are always laying flat on his back” — never wins.
With pets, as in politics, ours is a two-party system.
While Ms. Watts navigates the partisan shoals of Cat and Dog (she won’t take sides, though she did say she has a “sadly genetic” cat allergy), her inbox forces her to confront other, even more dispiriting aspects of the human condition.
Take Queen Lizzy, a Rottweiler/Labrador mix from Butte, Mont. Her owner found Lizzy at a shelter, a year after losing her previous dog to cancer. The pre-shelter story of Lizzy — starved, abused, locked outside — raises some of the biggest questions and perhaps answers them, too. “I don’t know who could hurt her,” writes Lizzy’s owner, who also doesn’t think “that’s for us to figure out. She is now in a loving, warm safe home forever, and she seems to know it too!”
Rescue stories like Lizzy’s are common. Yet some of the most dramatic tales involve not humans who have gone bad, but pets. One owner submitted the story of his dachshund who had the habit of sleeping on the owner’s bed. One night, the dog ate his owner’s toe. “I’m guessing he had some neuropathy or something,” Ms. Watts said. “It was just too awful to publish.”
The tale of Mancha the llama, savaged by another pet, was also a tough editorial call. It eventually ran with a disclaimer (“This is an exceptionally sad story”) and on a weekend, so that “anyone who viewed it didn’t have to get weepy at work,” Ms. Watts said.
The saga of Mancha — so strong, yes, but also so lucky — reminded me to ask Ms. Watts about how she handles submissions for deceased pets. Many readers of her websites are children (teachers have reported that puppy stories are helpful in coaxing otherwise shy children to read aloud; and then there’s the appeal of geography lessons along the lines of “Yesterday’s dog is from Slovenia. … Can you find Slovenia on a map?”) With an eye toward such young audiences, Ms. Watts restricts memorial posts to Sundays, when there is a better chance a parent or guardian can field questions about why “doggies don’t live as long as people do.”
Her three sites also have a large contingent of elderly fans, many of whom have been forced to leave their homes and their beloved pets. It turns out that these readers are one of the main reasons Ms. Watts largely retains the fin-de-siècle look of the websites. “We want to keep it simple, for people in nursing homes or people on modems,” she said.
In between the young and the old, of course, are those of working age, which raises inevitable, if lighthearted, questions about the sites’ impact on economic productivity. Thursdays and Mondays are the highest-traffic days, Ms. Watts said, and there are telltale spikes most weekday mornings at the start of United States and European working hours. Ms. Watts argues — and what would Karl Marx make of this? — that she builds “happier workers, because people who are overwhelmed by things can just come and look at a bunny.”
In the spirit of her friendly websites, Ms. Watts tries to answer everyone who contacts her, even if it’s only to explain why a submission isn’t suitable. For example, she occasionally receives a touching story accompanied by an image of what she presumes is the pet, lying on an identically colored piece of furniture. “We can’t tell if there’s a dog in that photo,” she’ll reply politely.
Then there are the rules about what, or who, is eligible for nomination. You can’t nominate a co-worker, however beastly, as Pet of the Day. You can’t nominate a younger sibling, no matter how strong a case you make. You’re not allowed to nominate a wild or zoo animal, though Ms. Watts once made an exception — who wouldn’t? — for Takara, a killer whale that meant the world to a cancer patient.
It seems that with her sites, Ms. Watts isn’t trying to distract us from the sadness of the world. Rather, she is suggesting we see life’s trials as surrounded by unconditional love, of the sort we find in the stories she curates for us.
It’s hard to know what more we could ask of a website, or of its co-founder, whose husband, Paul, died suddenly in May 2015. As the online universe of pet-related diversions continues to expand, Ms. Watts is carrying on the work the couple started nearly two decades ago, and remembering. When we spoke, she described Tigger, a tarantula that appeared on Pet of the Day. “My husband did not like spiders,” she said. “That’s why it was good there was two of us. We did it together.”
Mark Vanhoenacker is the author of “Skyfaring: A Journey With a Pilot.”
A version of this article appears in print on January 1, 2017, on Page ST6 of the New York edition with the headline: Every Dog Has Its Day.

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