A few days ago, I found myself getting annoyed while watching a bank ad. Usually I don’t see them because I don’t watch much free-to-air, and because my algorithm knows I don’t live in a reality where things like “home loans” and “mortgage rates” apply to my life.
Usually if a bank ad plays in my vicinity, I go into a Charlie Brown-esque fugue state. This ad, however, cleverly caught my eye. It was clever because it featured a dog. Part of my brain is always scanning for animals to look at. It’s like I’m The Terminator, except I’m scanning for metrics of cuteness and probability of pats. In this case, the probability of pats was 0%, because it was on TV, but still I was drawn in.
The ad shows a woman with a beautiful kelpie on a lead, walking down the many, many flights of steps of a tall apartment building in the middle of a big city. She takes the dog out to the front of the building to wee on a postage stamp-sized patch of grass. It shows her doing this over and over again on different days, in the rain etc. She’s dedicated! Then one day, she gets a phone call from the bank, telling her she has been approved for a home loan. Now she is in a house, throwing a ball into a back yard for her beloved kelpie to chase!
It is meant to be an aspirational ad. But to me, there are two big issues: one, the kelpie should never have been living in an apartment to begin with, and two, her back yard is still tiny!
If you know me, you will have been hearing my rant about this topic since before the ad was even a twinkle in the bank’s eye. I recently lived near a small inner-city Sydney park, where people from the surrounding high-rise apartment buildings would bring their working dogs to “exercise”. I would see kelpies and blue heelers and border collies with their yawning owners standing around, casually tossing a ball a few times. These owners either didn’t know or care that bringing your working dog breed down from your small apartment for 20 minutes to chase a ball is nowhere near enough stimulation and exercise for them. They were also unaware that the fat woman nearby was fuming, muttering angrily about them to whoever was next to her.
I do have to admit at this point that my issue may stem from a deeper place than pure unselfish dog knowledge. I’m from regional Queensland, and when I was about 12 I got to choose a puppy from a nearby farming family. I went to the pet store to get supplies, including a book telling you exactly how to take care of a border collie. I looked after Jess for three years, she had the run of the place with other working dogs, we were all happy – until my family moved from outside the city into Toowoomba itself.
Even though our yard was SIGNIFICANTLY BIGGER than the one in the ad, Jess was desperate to exercise more, kept digging humungous holes and was clearly bored and unhappy. A heartbreaking decision was made, and one of the saddest memories of my life is of hugging her and crying into her fur the day she went to live on a farm (a REAL FARM, not a euphemism). But it was best for her and I knew it. So yes, when I see a bank ad suggesting that a working dog going from a 15th-floor apartment to a 3x3 metre back yard is some kind of huge win, my brain short-circuits.
Dogs bred for moving livestock across vast properties are now fetching a ball a few times while their owner plays Candy Crush. The reason you want one of these dogs is because they are beautiful, amazing, intelligent creatures. They are smarter than some of your children. If you are going to get one, you have to put in a lot of work to make sure they remain happy and healthy. If you can do that in your apartment or small back yard, that’s great, and impressive. If you are looking for a new pet, and you have an apartment or a house with a small back yard, please consider if you have the commitment and the resources necessary to keep Jess … I mean your dog … happy. There are so many dog breeds more suitable, so many dogs waiting to be adopted. It shouldn’t be aspirational to get a small yard for a kelpie. Congratulations on your house, but maybe try a greyhound instead.
Rebecca Shaw is a writer based in Sydney
