Reaching Out
by Janine Adams
When you love your dog and so much of your spare time is wrapped up in caring for your dog and just spending quality time with him, it's easy not to think about other people and dogs. When I see people in the park or on the street handling their dogs roughly, or unfairly yelling at them, I typically turn a deaf ear and blind eye and focus back on my own dogs. I rarely reach out. Heck, I've been known to make silent judgments about a fellow dog walkers because of the kind of collar they put on their dogs. But I rarely make a gentle comment that might get them thinking about more gentler and effective ways of dealing with their dogs.
Robin Kovary was a dog trainer and dog writer known and beloved by many. She cared about other people and other dogs-even those she'd never even met. She gave sound advice freely and generously. A successful Manhattan dog trainer, Robin made a living helping people with their dogs. But for more than a dozen years she also ran a free telephone help line from her home. Dog owners could call her with a question and get expert advice, at no charge.
Robin died in early January, after a long bout with breast cancer. She was only 43. There's a big hole in the dog-loving community in New York City, and elsewhere. Indeed, Robin touched lives throughout the country and will be missed greatly.
I knew Robin as a fellow dog writer. I interviewed her as an expert source for several articles and included her in my second book. I enjoyed talking with her when I would see her at dog-related events. I even had the chance to visit with her in her apartment on one occasion last year.
So I was glad to attend her memorial service to pay my respects. I knew Robin to be a generous, kind, caring soul. But when I learned even more about her life from the many people who spoke at the service-billed as a "celebration of her life"-I was humbled. I learned that Robin Kovary played an integral role in starting pet therapy programs in New York City. I learned that she worked round the clock, even during her long illness, helping people who needed help with their dogs. I learned that she would travel weekly to Harlem to help feed homeless people. I learned she would drop what she was doing to help a person with a veterinary emergency. And I learned that a week before her death, she lamented to a friend, "I just didn't do enough."
Robin's father says that she did not make any sacrifices in her efforts to help others. She was, he said at the service, doing what she loved to do. Tacked to her wall in her apartment was a favorite quote from Eleanor Roosevelt, which was reproduced in the program for her memorial service. "When you cease to make a contribution, you begin to die."
What I learned about Robin filled my heart but made me feel small. I feel privileged to have known her. Thanks to her life-and, sadly to her death-I vow to reach out more to help other people and dogs. I try to help through my writing (as Robin did with hers), but I want to take a more active role in helping individuals. It might start with small steps-going out of my way to suggest a book on positive dog training or showing someone how a treat can magically help a dog behave. And I hope it will expand beyond that point to participating in volunteer activities or making other contributions to help dogs and their people.
You may be someone who's already reaching out for the benefit of others. I know there are many, many tireless dog lovers spending their spare time in rescue and other activities. But if you're someone, like me, whose time is often spent dealing with the daily responsibilities of life and capturing small moments to share with your dogs, I encourage you to take to heart the story of Robin Kovary and her contributions. Of course, taking excellent care of your dogs is foremost in your mind. But think about reserving a little of that love for other dogs, canines who may or may not even have owners. Reach out when you can. Help that lost dog get home, for example. And, when you do it, think of a woman who dedicated her too-short life to helping people and dogs.
As I sat in the chapel at her memorial service-a chapel filled with well-behaved dogs busying themselves comforting humans-I heard two women behind me remembering Robin. "She never said no to people," one woman said. "She helped so many people keep their dogs."
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