I hope a Chinese pharmaceutical steals the formula for Viagra while there are still some animals left in Asia
I lived in Korea for awhile. They eat dogs in Korea. Someone told me they put them in a bag and beat them to death. I never saw that and I sort of doubt it because it would spoil the meat. But I certainly don’t put it past a Korean dog farmer. I lived next door to one. I never saw him slaughter a dog but I saw him put four large dogs into a chicken cage that looked like it was made for six chickens. The dogs did not have room to move a paw or even open their mouths. I’m not exaggerating. It was one of the worst things I ever saw. Getting beaten to death is one thing, and perhaps I can forgive a culture that, but riding a hundred miles in a chicken cage like that is too much.
I love dogs. My family loves dogs. We have had many. Always big ones. They are good with children and they are comforting when you are sad. They know when you are sad and they want to help. A dog can’t do much for that like buy you a drink and tell you it will be okay pretty soon if you can just hang on but somehow the fact that dogs want to help helps. It helped me before anyway. I think anyone who’s been sad around a dog understands this.
We had a dog who was born all messed up. She had digestive tract problems. She had many surgeries and cost the family a lot of money. We love dogs though. She needed special food her whole life because she couldn’t digest right. It must have been thousands and thousands of dollars all together. I don’t think I need to prove how much we love dogs.
I love my family as well as dogs sometimes. They are very talented and smart. They aren’t racists and they recycle. They are pretty liberal but like to work hard. They are very loveable. The reason I don’t love them all the time is because they’re cowards and I’m not. They aren’t bad. I swear you’d like them. They’re just scared too much. It’s why my dad drank. It’s also why he gave up drinking. It’s why he hasn’t changed a bit even without having a drink in twelve years. It’s why he yelled at me that I wasn’t welcome in his house when there wasn’t even a fight going on. It’s why my sister is a cruel bitch when her feelings are hurt. I understand. I used to be exactly the same. A cruel bitch when I was upset. But I changed and she hasn’t yet. Maybe she will and we can be best friends again someday. I’d like that but I’m not worried about it anymore. My mother’s cowardice is that she wouldn’t leave my father when my sister and I were young and there was still time for us. It’s too late to worry about it but it used to bother me a lot. I’m not sure why I’m not a coward. I guess I fell in love. Love makes you brave. My sister calls me names because of it and I don’t think that’s fair at all. She called me a monster one time. I try not to be mad at them. If I can change, maybe they can too. I just don’t like waiting.
The dog’s name was Little Girl. Because she was and it was cute. She was small for a German Shepherd but really smart. I remember two things about her the strongest. The first is that she loved to play more than any dog we ever had. She loved the snow especially. They were still puppies the first time it snowed (we kept another puppy from that litter; he was a good dog too). We live in the New Mexico high plains so we get a lot of snow sometimes. It snows there eight months out of the year. Even though it’s not even cold eight months out of the year. Northern New Mexico has peculiar weather.
The first time it snowed she went diving into it. That’s what I remember so strongly. That she knew she was gonna love snow before she even tried it out. It was deep snow and she just dived down under it on purpose with her black nose like periscope. She was tall enough to stand out of it but she was crouching down because she liked to play and she liked snow so much. Running and jumping around that damn huge yard like a big crazy black trout in a giant white lake.
She got sick again with the digestive problems when she was about eight. That’s pretty old for a big dog anyway so it wasn’t too sad. She couldn’t be fixed this time. She couldn’t eat anymore. She was all closed off inside. She was just getting thinner and sicker and starving to death every goddamn day she vomited up the expensive food that she used to be able to eat. I couldn’t stand that. To think of how much she liked to play and see her starving to death. Maybe being brave isn’t about love. Maybe it’s about hating pain. I couldn’t fucking stand it.
My family loves dogs and they knew the right thing to do but they’re cowards so I had to do it. I called the vet and asked him to please drive over and kill our dog for us.
The second thing I remember about Little Girl is that it was snowing when I carried her outside for the vet to kill her. That was my idea. I put a blanket out there under the falling snow. I thought maybe she would remember the first time she saw snow so it would be easy for her. I liked her and I wanted her to die easily. I hope somebody carries me outside in the snow wrapped in a blanket when I have to die. The vet did it for free. That’s how much everybody liked her. I used to work for a vet so I know. The shot to kill a dog isn’t cheap and neither is a housecall or getting a DVM degree but he did it free all the same.
I had a really terrific girlfriend then and to prove how terrific she was she didn’t even care that I cried like a fucking baby for much longer than any man should ever cry about anything but maybe a dead child. I couldn’t even stand up. I had to fall down, that’s how hard I was crying. I thought it was really sad that a dog that liked to play so much had to die and give up playing for good and that I was the only brave one in my family. That made me sad and lonely too.
So in Korea I would get mad at Koreans sometimes because they would try to get me to eat dog. I wouldn’t hold it against them that they did but I would get mad when they wanted me to do it too. They should just take “no” for answer so I don’t have to tell them why.