Actual conversation one morning last week …
“Honey, where’s that piece of steak I was saving for lunch?”
“It’s in the fridge. Look behind the yogurt.”
“Yeah … But where’s the REST of it?”
“I gave it to the dog. I ran out of chicken.”
Uh huh …
So this is what it has come to. My position on the Family Food Chain is now somewhere below Dog, maybe higher than the spider I was forced to assassinate one recent evening to the non-stop scream, “Bug! Bug!!”
Of course “higher than … spider” is just an assumption on my part.
There are rules … Rules of Nature … that suggest that the higher species – those that are stronger, smarter and more adaptable – get first crack at prized resources and eat first at The Kill. Unfortunately for some of us those rules are suspended in the Dog-Human Relationship.
Actually that’s a misstatement in my case. As this incident illustrates, this Man is the third wheel in the Dog-Woman Relationship.
Personally, I like dogs. In fact, I have proven recently my fondness for Man’s Best Friend. And I love, Zoe, our Bichon Frise. And for the most part, it doesn’t bother me that she is spoilt more than a Kardashian. But there should be respect for The Pecking Order of Species.
I am bigger and stronger; and damn it … I can – on most days – complete a 16-square sudoku in The Washington Post!!
So that highly prized New York strip steak I was hoarding for myself should remain mine. I shouldn’t have to stand over The Kill baring fangs like a starving lion fending off a circling hyena … especially a fluffy white specimen that looks like a candidate for Best of Show!
Guess I’ll just have to adapt.
Funny aside …
Recently Zoe underwent knee surgery.
(And no, she did not injure it while running down a “kill” of her own. She only goes after meat that is completely motionless and thoroughly cooked, perhaps served in a balsamic reduction. But I digress …)
I will not bore you with the veterinary details, including the $ticker $hock from which we are still recovering. No, this is about what contortions we go through for our pets.
Our instructions were to keep Zoe off her bad leg as much as possible, so the process of doggie bathroom breaks was a tad problematic. The vet-proposed solution was to “lighten the load” on her surgically-repaired leg by using a home-made sling to support her body mass as she went about “her business”.
There is nothing more humbling than standing next to your pooch with a sling made of a rolled blanket running beneath their belly and held aloft in your fisted hand! People passing by – people who you know – look at you like you have lost it completely. And the dog simply looks up at you with a face that says; “Do you really expect me to go with this stupid thing wrapped around me. Oh … And you look like an idiot too!”