The other day, I asked Tracy if it was ok for me to decide that I do not like people who get dogs from breeders (or pet stores or puppy mills, etc.). She agreed that was allowed. Then I asked if I was also allowed to not like people who don't recycle. She balked on that one, which indicated to me that I should proceed carefully, lest I decide that I don't like my sister anymore.
Of course, neither of these requirements is fair. This is just what I believe and things that are very important to me. I know there are some people who want nothing to do with me simply because I have a fat ass or no discernible fashion sense, but those are bad examples. Maybe it's because of my politics or carnivorous ways. The point is that just because I feel strongly about something doesn't mean I am right. Although, I forgot to tell you that yesterday was Everything You Think Is Wrong Day. I'm serious- I found that on a list of holidays.
Part of what's nice about living in my own little bubble is that I don't have to see many people living contrary to the way I think they should. I have been actively trying to reframe this- to stop using the words "right" and "wrong," and try to understand where people are coming from, but sometimes I just have no idea. As I've said, I try hard not to block people on Facebook because I want to be reminded that that not everyone thinks like I do. That even people with a very similar background do not necessarily think like me. That I should mind what comes out of my mouth.
For one, I don't handle conflict that well, so I don't really like to invite it. Also, I live in pretty constant fear of upsetting or offending or looking like a complete idiot, though I am quite experienced in all three of those skills. But mainly, I don't like hanging all my asshole assumptions up for the world to tear down. I keep reading the same sentiment about how the more you know about something, the less righteous you are about it. We like these snap judgments about controversies and news items, but as you learn more, you start lowering your pitchfork. After a few times of being wrong, you become more hesitant to raise your pitchfork in the first place. Well, at least, that's how I've been feeling.
Except sometimes when I need to wave my pitchfork and yell a while.
My blog would be so ripe for taking things out of context, wouldn't it?
So I went out to walk Riley and my young neighbor was outside, despairing by the dumpster. I greeted him and asked what happened. He said the garbage bag exploded, so I put my things down and volunteered to help clean it up. He said thank you- a courtesy that I nearly forgot about during my later rant. We picked up all kinds of legitimate garbage, but honestly, most of it was recyclable paper and plastic bottles. You would have been proud of me- I said nothing. Or maybe you would not have been proud. Maybe you would have collected them all and brought them to the recycling bin that was maybe thirty friggin' feet away. But he gets enough of my unsolicited advice regarding his dog, so I left him alone about the recycling. After all, if the bag hadn't busted, I would never have seen its contents, and besides that, garbage is a personal thing, and it's embarrassing enough to have it spread all over the street.
Last night, I was hanging out with my friend, and she told me about a solution she found for a technology problem that astounded me. It was, in her view, effective, but I saw immediately that her solution essentially ruined her kind gesture. I'm deliberately being vague here. I tried to ask a question and offer a more effective solution, but I was politely silenced and informed that my suggestions were not welcome. Well, that kind of hurt, but I was more struck by the refusal to learn. This is not normally the case with her at all, and I tried to remember that I steadfastly opposed to some things too.
For example, when the woman who has been watching the PERC (Patient Education Resource Center, where I will be the Library Tech) found out I was a veteran, she reached for her stack of long, plastic tags. Army is green, Marines have red, etc. They hang behind your badge so everyone can see that you are an employee that is also a veteran, and they can tell what branch you served in. She asked me what branch, I said Air Force, and she started mock puking. She offered a light blue tag and I politely declined. Why?
- I don't want to get that reaction all day, every day from employees and veterans alike
- The joke was funny the first 400 times, and I just don't have the sense of humor about it that I used to
- I want to limit the amount and type of information I give out about myself at work
- I don't want any more cards hanging off my neck
And that's all I've got so far. Will those reasons be enough for her to understand? No way. I'm not even sure I understand. Am I ashamed of my service? Of course not. I'm just never going to be someone who advertises it. That's not an indictment of the people who do. It's just different. I did not offer an explanation, and she did not ask for one, but I bet she won't ask me again about joining the Color Guard.
I said nothing to my friend about a technology issue that I actually knew how to handle. I said nothing to my young neighbor about the recycling. I just helped him pick it up as his Pit Bull puppy attacked me over and over with excitement and love. The problem is that this dog is maybe six months old and his family has not done a fucking thing to train him. There is another situation exactly like this in my neighborhood- the kids want a dog, the parents hand over a puppy and excuse themselves from the walking. Nice plan, dipshits. Get a strong, energetic breed, and hand it off on your 8-year-old. No training, no supervision, no doggy discipline, just
Oh look, what a cute little puppy and
Isn't it cute the way the puppy drags my son across the yard? Oh, sometimes I see one of the parents walking the dog to the bottom of the stairs to pee, then dragging it back inside. Last week, as I left for work, I saw the Pit Bull loose in the courtyard, and looked for his owner. She was standing at the top of the stairs. I tried to avoid letting him see me, but he bounded over and jumped all over me with his sharp nails and tugged on every hem he could reach with his sharp puppy teeth. Thankfully, my wardrobe meets durability and dog hair standards, but can you imagine how pissed you would be if this happened to you in your work clothes? His owner took her sweet time getting over to me and pulled him away without a word of apology. Oh good, so you're an idiot AND an asshole. You should be thanking your lucky stars, lady, that it was me and not any other person in this complex.
So as we're picking up trash, her son keeps trying to control his dog and tells me that they are probably getting rid of him.
...
Deep breaths.
...
Oh, I dislike you so much. You and your husband just stole that dog's best chance of a good life by wasting the time when he was small. You've bored him and made him bonkers with a lack of exercise and discipline, and now he's a frustrated, energetic, male Pit Bull who will likely end up at the pound, becoming more frustrated every day. Fuck you, assholes. Do you know how much Pit Bulls attach themselves to one family? Do you know why they were once called nanny dogs? You can buy all your beverages in plastic bottles, but you can't pay someone to help you train your dog? Did you think they came well-behaved? Do you care about him?
I thought about the Canine Rehabilitation Center and Sanctuary that I have been following on Facebook. Their main focus is on long-term shelter dogs. They have fundraisers and volunteers. They post pictures of their new charges and explain where the dogs came from, what their personality is like, their favorite toys and friends, what they're working on, what they're good at, and when they're adoptable. CRCS celebrates every adoption and posts pictures of these dogs in their new homes. They also post pleas for help with their vet bills and attendance at their fundraisers. They are inventive about money raising, and so grateful for every type of help they receive. It must be so emotionally rewarding to give these dogs a second chance, but it comes with constant financial and emotional strain.
I was so mad. Riley and I went to get a Diet Coke, and I was just venting to her. My idiot neighbors don't seem to know or care that their irresponsibility will end up on someone else, yet these are the people raising Pit Bull puppies? And yes, don't think I'm not thinking about Jasmine. I did raise her, and she would not be as good as she is without me. Chris and Ant know and acknowledge this. I think Ant will be a good pet owner, but Chris doesn't seem cut out for it. I wish someone could tell Jasmine that, because she still loves him best. Jasmine has several nets beneath her, thankfully, so I am mostly sure she will not end up alone, but thank god for the people who run rescues.
I look at Riley and think about how lucky she is. Poor Leroy is still running around loose (and matted) every time he needs to pee because his stupid owner can't take him for a fucking walk. My little girl has five dog beds to choose from (I have a problem.) and she gets brushed and walked and talked to and loved and trained and taken to the vet and on car rides and she meets new dogs and new people and goes new places. I have a friend who tells me how happy she is to see all my pictures of Riley online. She works at the Humane Society and says some people surrender their dogs simply because they are old.
On the way back home, I heard "Pompeii," by Bastille. "How am I going to be an optimist about this?" they ask. Indeed.
See, maybe at this point (if anyone is still reading this) I have made you feel guilty. Maybe you gave up your dog. Maybe you didn't stay in the room when the vet put her down. Maybe you think the yard is satisfactory and don't walk your dog. Maybe you stand at the top of the stairs. Maybe the vet bills were too damn expensive. Maybe the puppy was cute and you didn't want to leave him in that shitty pet store. Maybe some of this is willful ignorance and some is just inexperience. My Humane Society friend
adores Riley, and also calls her a brat. You know why? Because when I got her, I didn't know shit. I did a much better job raising Jasmine, and I'll do an even better job with the next one. It is important to me to be a good pet parent, one of the most important things to me. But I can't afford everything she needs at the vet. I don't take her for as many walks as I should. I stand at the top of the stairs sometimes. I don't play with the cat enough and then she pounces on my poor, old dog in the middle of the night. And none of the two cats and two dogs I have had came from the shelter. Nobody's perfect. But I have resolved that my next dog will come from CRCS.
Maybe you found a good home for your dog and had a really good reason for doing it. I'm not going to ask, mainly because I may not like you as much anymore. I'm trying hard to work on easing up on the judgment. Today was not easy, dealing with a young representative of a family violating my two biggest personal beliefs. I did not lecture him, and I will not lecture his parents. I have tried to help with suggestions, but did not push. I know they will not hear me and maybe they have already learned from their mistakes. Maybe they'll do better with their next dog, or maybe they'll even keep this one and get some help. I am going to hope for the best and donate a little more to the shelters and to CRCS.
I hope my young neighbor remembers me as kind. I tried to behave with him in a way that supported that value, but I did go around after he left, collecting the remaining plastic bottles and putting them in the recycling bin.
