They die trying to save them from fierce surf or speeding cars or scalding hot springs. People talk about their dogs as family members. Grief support sessions for deceased pets are as widely available as AA meetings.
The animals-as-people meme is ascendant in our culture. But I feel really bad about Moose.”Īnd I believe him I believe that he is far more distressed about euthanizing Moose than the possible imminence of his own demise. “No,” he said, “I can deal with whatever they find. “So,” I said, “That’s the real story right? I mean, putting Moose down is sad, but what we’re really talking about are your medical tests, and that’s what has you worried. And then he said, “Oh by the way,” and described tests he had just endured that pointed to a malignancy that could well prove fatal. It was time to let go and bid him a loving adieu.Ĭhokingly, my brother agreed.
PUPPIES WAKING ME UP MEME FULL
I pointed out that all flesh is grass, that spaniel flesh is even “grassier” than our own, and that he had given Moose a lovely life, allowing him to live up to his full canine potential. So I commiserated with my brother as he mournfully described Moose’s moribund condition. Moose was the sun, and they were minor orbital bodies, basking in the beneficence of his life-affirming doggy vibe. And his wife, he said, was just as besotted with the dog. I screamed: $10,000? I accused my brother of treating Moose like the son he’d never had. The $10,000 required to surgically repair an arthritic shoulder. The way his flews quivered adorably when he anticipated a snack. His guilty demeanor when he peed in a corner of the kitchen. How he delighted in swimming laps all day in the pool during summer. And whenever I talked with my brother on the phone, the conversation inevitably revolved around Moose. When my brother left in his pick-up, Moose was bounding joyously around the cab. So when my brother visited one day, and he and Moose practically soul-kissed out of mutual attraction, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t stand in the way of a budding relationship. I bought him at a particularly busy point in my life, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t able to give him all the attention he both required and deserved. He needed rigorous daily exercise, and a lot of emotional input. But like all well-bred springers, Moose had a lot of energy. He was, in duck-hunting parlance, extremely “birdy,” and I’d trained him casually, so he performed pretty well in the field.
I’d bought him as a pup, thinking he’d be a good, smaller alternative to a Labrador as a retriever. Actually, he started off as my springer spaniel. And when he said, “I have bad news,” I steeled myself. He seems to take a perverse delight in neglecting his health his diet is horrible, he’s overweight, and he struggles with high blood pressure and a variety of other metabolic issues. So when I got the call, and the usual ebullience was drained from his voice, I was anxious. He’s also my only sibling, and our connection is deep. If I had to describe him succinctly, I’d say he is an amalgam of Hank Hill and Dennis Hopper. He has a sense of humor that is Sahara-like in its dryness.
He is laconic, though given to occasional scabrous and amusing outbursts. He is a highly skilled machinist whose work has included beautifully customized-as in chopped –Norton motorcycles. He now teaches grammar school kids in Phoenix’s poorest and toughest district. Several years ago, he enrolled in college, took his BA in education and obtained a teaching credential. He served a stint in the Coast Guard, then 10 years as a cop, quitting the force after determining he neither liked nor respected his superiors then he became a master trucker, driving triple trailers on the I-80 Reno to Salt Lake City run. He is a person of a certain age who has had a colorful life. I got a phone call from him a couple of days ago. This rumination begins with a phone call from my brother, but it’s really about domestic animals, dogs and cats mostly, and our changing mores about them: How they are now viewed as peers and family members rather than pets, how we’ve come to define ourselves as their guardians rather than their owners, whether our growing obsession with them is somehow a simulacrum for the complicated and messy human relationships that formerly dominated our lives, and whether apotheosizing them somehow minimizes our sensitivity to human suffering.īut back to my brother.