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!”
How about when you are served a large second helping of food and are told whatever you do not eat is being given to the dog. At exactly that moment you are technically eating “dog food” served to you by your spouse, I have made such announcements when such vile acts have been done to me.
To really determine your station in the dog human org chart let me ask you this:
In your dog / human relationship who is picking up who’s droppings?
You are in no way equal in status to your dog.
(I can just imagine the dog knee surgery bill amount. I almost died when it cost me $500 to fix a hematoma in my dog’s ear 20 years ago…)
The eating a pre-ordained dog-food dinner is a classic! At least I never had THAT happen!
I was wishing I had a camera the other day as I walked the dog and we ran into a cat Zoe likes, because my theory is that she THINKS she’s part cat. Anyways we were walking along in cat, dog, me order and I was thinking what a neat picture it would have been with a caption “Which species is the dominant one?” when I realized I was the one carrying the dog’s “happy meal”.
Humorous post. Anything with animals always good reading. Not sure how much you “love” Zoe. Thou dost protest too much
All I want is a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T in light of my H-U-M-A-N-I-T-Y.