http://www.slate.com/articles/life/family/2013/07/kids_and_dogs_if_you_re_having_a_baby_do_not_get_a_puppy.html
Dear Ms. Arnold, oh, I mean, Dear Ms. Been-a-dick…oops, I mean Ms. Benedikt,
It’s too bad you can’t take your own advice: “…If you do get a dog, don’t have kids.” The least you could have done, though, is stop at one. Your piece reads like you have been stuck in a nightmarish PPD haze for, uh, how long…oh, yes, four years. Seriously, you have to wipe your four year old’s bottom, but you can’t find time to take your dog to the groomer so HIS butt is trimmed and you don’t have to, as you put it, “grab a pair of scissors and hack off a clump of his hair” when he goes potty? Certainly it can’t be about money, since you’ve had three kids and own 2,459 tiny fucking Legos. Okay, maybe grandma gave the kids the Legos, though I’d be surprised if she gave you tiny fucking Legos. I’ll give you that one, though. And maybe she gave you those go-go-gadget-knock-me-up genes, but there is such a thing as birth control. I recommend you start using it, because with your luck Velvet, no, wait, Valet, or was it Velcro…oh, wait, VELVEL, that’s right...Velvel will live to be about 20 years old regardless of kidney or liver issues. At your rate you will be giving the Duggar family a run for their money.
Maybe you should put a little less time into baby-making and take the kids for a walk with your dog. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have one of those three-child strollers so your kids’ feet never have to touch the ground. (Actually, do you even let them go outside? I mean, the germs! And the dog poop they could step in! Oh my!) Here’s an idea: tell John to put his pants back on. Have him put the baby in an Ergo carrier like the cool dads do, and tell him to take the dog for a walk. Then you can change that shirt covered in baby puke, because that’s gotta be a drag. I’ve never heard of a mom being urped up on before by her baby. What an inconvenience.
Oh, wait, let me think for a minute…YES! I can remember baby urp up! It’s hard to dredge up that memory. It’s covered up in dog hair and cat shit from all the foster animals I take care of. Foster animals which come with bylines such as: “Surrendered to shelter because of new baby,” or “Moving to new apartment that won’t allow pets.” Or maybe “Found it along the road, and it must be a stray” (yeah, buddy, because that is why he was sitting there politely at your side looking at you like he’s ready to play fetch while you signed him into doggy death camp). Another oldie but a goody is “allergies.” Uh-huh. Allergies, my ass. Can’t you come up with some better excuses, people? Oh, but I digress. We were talking about baby urp up, weren’t we? I DO know about baby urp up. Do you know why, Ms. Benedikt? Because I am a mom. Yup. Birthed a baby out of this here vajayjay. That was nine years ago. I’d have had more, but, well, other people’s pets’ hair and poop have kind of gotten in the way of that. Looks like it’s going to stay that way, since you are telling lovely, loving, doting couples to never grow up and to never get a dog. So there will just be more pets not getting homes in your fairy tale, which means more work for those of us who care about living things other than ourselves. I guess you think 3 million animals dying in shelters in the United States each year just isn’t enough. Oh, wait, you also said that thing about if you get a dog, skip the kids. That’s right. How very Peter Pan-ish of you. Actually, your life sounds very Generation Millenial…maybe we should get you on Sixteen and Pregnant?
And all that whining coming from Velvel, is it as whiny as your writing? Then you should probably know exactly how he feels, because I’m pretty sure he knows exactly how you do. After all, people domesticated dogs, not the other way around. People spent year after year after year across time luring the canine spirit to crawl into our laps. We heap our abuse upon them, and they know us often better than we know ourselves. Maybe he is saying, “Legos on the floor and Desitin-painting by small children are normal, as is your life. Love it, and pet me, and remember I am old so if I fart, forgive me. People fart all the time and dogs don’t complain. Oh, and just let me lick up that urp up. It looks good.”
What if you used your pen to, oh, I don’t know, say something along the lines of, “Hey, it’s tough. I’m a tired mom with three kids, a lazy husband, and an old crotchety dog. It’s hard to be a grown up. The economy sucks. I have to write stupid drivel in order to buy Legos, Desitin, a new shirt, and liver meds for my dog. When you go get that puppy for your partner, remember that the growing up didn’t start there. It started the first time you kissed. Life’s tough. Grow up. And when that puppy or the kids are driving you nuts, remember the first time you kissed and put Marley and Me in the DVD player.”
Maybe you could use your experience as a real world parent to help those of us who are fighting to build better communities by saving the lives of cast-off animals. Was Velvel a rescue? What’s his story? Use your words to help others who are struggling. Help lift them up. Let them know they aren’t alone. Maybe that’s what you were trying to convey, but we animal advocates can be a sensitive lot. That’s because we work ALL THE TIME to fix other people’s mistakes, and we don’t like it when someone makes it worse when they have the talent to make it better. My kid spends his spare time going to the animal shelter with me so we can try to save another life. Then there are the really cool field trips we take to the veterinarian. Oh, and it’s really awesome after school when he gets to hang out with me at the spay/neuter office, watching me try to help people get their shit together to fix their pets. Saturday mornings are for sleeping in. Yeah, right. Saturday mornings in our house are like any other day. Dogs start barking before dawn. Actually, my neighbors fighting cocks start crowing an hour before that, oh Glory. Then the cats start meowing for food. The litter boxes have to be cleaned. The bottle-baby kittens need to be fed. Oh, and on that topic, don’t you even try to say that my having only a nine year old means I don’t get what you are going through. You try bottle-feeding kittens for one whole kitten season. You wouldn’t last a week. You’d be too worried about your shirt.
I’d love it if someone used their considerable talent to make things easier for those of us who pull more hours out of a day than one can think humanly possible. I thought I was exhausted when my son was a toddler. I was wrong. I’m bone-tired every single day. I see sadness pretty much every single day, too, but I try to make the best of it, because I want my son to grow up to be part of a generation that looks out for each other and the planet. I also know that any suffering I may have in my life is nothing compared to the suffering that takes place in other parts of the world. We are damn lucky to be able to have our kids and dogs. We are damn lucky that our kids in most cases get to grow up, and that dogs get to be part of our self-serving lives to calm us, to challenge us, to keep us safe. In some places they just end up in a cooking pot. Gives your ‘dog food scare’ home cookin’ scenario a little different perspective, doesn’t it? And how nice to live in a country where we can have more than one child not because we hope that one will survive, but because we can be selfish. Hell, I’m all for reproductive rights, but enough is enough. We can’t even fix all our dogs and cats. Stupid humans. But we can just keep having more kids because we want to nah nah nah booboo you can’t stop me and then complain about the dog. So there you go. I’m sure you have more baby vomit to deal with, and don’t forget those Legos. There are still probably about 1,982 of the tiny fucking things on the floor, and by now they are covered in Desitin too (ever heard of child locks?) We wouldn’t want to keep you from your life’s major catastrophes.
One last word of advice, though…how about this: instead of spending so much time writing about how awful it is to have a dog when you have kids, you spend that time WITH YOUR DOG. Maybe then he’d stop whining. He probably just wants to pee.
