How to cook your kid without a kitchen
Writing by treason on Saturday, 25 of August , 2007 at 5:45 pm
I remember when my sister’s girlfriend was driving her old VW, her cat curled up in the backseat. She rolled down her window and tossed a lit cigarette out, but didn’t realize it had blown back into her car and landed on the rear seat where her cat was sleeping.
Had she taken a moment during her trip to turn and check on her passenger, she could have discovered the fire and extinguished it before the backseat of the car burst into flames.
I, too, had a friend with a similar tale. His mother, busy driving, had pressed a button to close the passenger seat window behind her, not realizing that the passenger, the family’s Boxer, had put his head out to get a little air.
I am reminded of these stories every time I drive with a pet in my car.
It may sound odd, but I’ve discovered just recently what motivates me. My raison d’être. What gets me up and moving in the morning. It’s responsibility. Not for myself, mind you, but for whatever creature is dependent upon me. There are mornings when I’m exhausted and I toy with the idea of sleeping another hour, but then a warm tongue brushes my eyelids. Once the dog is awake, I snap to attention. There are things to be done.
She’s been holding her urine for hours and must go outside. And it’s time for her to patrol her yard and sniff for signs of trespassers. Sniff. Pause. Sniff. A cat was here. Sniff, sniff. A rabbit was there. Ears forward: What is that behind the rosemary? This gives me time to assess the plants, check seed levels in the bird feeders, and change out the water in the birdbath. Then it’s back to the house, a washing of the dog’s bowls, brewing of coffee, and administration of canine medication and breakfast.
When T and I were both corporate and living out our weird yuppie, dual income/no kids, just dogs fantasy, we would take them to doggie daycare before going to work. Most of those mornings were spent prepping the dogs and getting them into the car, then out of the car, and into the daycare facility. Sometimes in heels. (Uh, me — not the dogs.)
Neither of us ever drove to work and discovered that we’d forgotten to drop the dogs off. Neither of us ever drove home after work, then asked the other: Did you remember to pick the dogs up from daycare?
Why? Because both our lives were and still are designed around a canine schedule. When she wakes up, our day begins. And we’re off. If the dog is going out in the car, she needs her water bottle and dog bed for back-of-the-wagon padding. We need her leash and a supply of plastic bags. Once she’s situated, we are at all times aware that the dog is in the car. Whoever is at the wheel drives more cautiously, applies even pressure to the brakes and eases to a stop at intersections. Periodic checks: what is the dog doing? She’s up on the backseat, she’s smiling. Oh – here comes another dog, get ready for a drive-by barking!
She is never left in the car alone. If it’s warm, the trips are short and there is always air flow. Our social lives are limited: we have a special someone at home who deserves our attention, so we must decline your invitation, cut the evening short, postpone that vacation. Someday I imagine we will be able to go to Italy. Until then, my big trips are to PetSmart.
So when I hear that yet another infant has been left in a car because busy Mom or busy Dad simply overlooked the fact, I have to wonder: How is it that you don’t know there’s a small child in the car with you?
Similarly, how does someone leave more than a dozen dogs for over two months without proper supervision? Did it not occur to DMX, née Earl Simmons – rapper, actor, criminal, and serial animal abuser — to check up on his property or ask about the well-being of the canine residents?
Dead, cooked children. Dead, starved pit bulls. I cannot call for a ban on children or irresponsible parents, and I’m not in favor of outlawing particular breeds of dogs. Since we cannot hang, beat to death, starve to death, or electrocute the dog abusers of the world, can we at least begin to address the issue by asking companies to lend a hand?
I hesitate to endorse censorship, but until artists are capable of censoring themselves, corporations might just have to step up. Why don’t MTV, VH1, and BET ban any music videos that feature pit bulls in a gangster environment? Keep images of the dogs off CD covers, out of films, and off T-shirts. We have measures to control child pornography and the abuse of defenseless children – why can’t we stop the exploitation of these dogs?
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