Friday, July 20, 2007

Good Dog, Bad Quarterback

Every few weeks we include a trip to Jim’s Puppy World in our errands. While we aren’t in the market for a puppy just now, and we buy most of our pet supplies elsewhere, we’re still drawn to a quant neighborhood “mom and pop puppy shop” a couple of times every month. Sometimes Jim himself is there. He has a flowing white beard and is constantly remodeling his store, wielding his hammer and saw like a modern-day Noah, hopefully awaiting a flood of new business. We usually trickle in with a few other customers, but Jim is nonplussed. He hammers away like he knows something we don’t-- which is kind of unsettling.

Our ritual is always the same. First we visit Babe the parrot, who will bite if you’re dumb enough to offer her your finger. Like people, Babe doesn’t want to be poked at. We tell her she’s very beautiful, which apparently pleases her, and then we move on to the canaries. By inference I’ve deduced that all male canaries hate each other, since Jim carefully shields their cages from one another with sheets of paper clipped to each side. I’m not sure why Jim doesn’t just arrange the canary cages boy/girl/boy/girl-- but he has his system; who am I to suggest improvements in his ark?

Next are the chinchillas, gerbils, hamsters and rats. I always thought chinchillas were relatively placid animals until one day when I stuck my finger in the chinchilla cage and made a low chucking sound which apparently meant “Red Alert Chinchilla Disaster.” I’m ashamed to say that my startled reaction when the chinchilla went berserk and rocketed around his cage is not suitable for young ears.

The puppies at Jim’s Puppy World are the big draw and every week there are new and interesting combinations. Jim doesn’t deal in purebreds, so there are always strange mixes to pick from. Once there was a cross between a beagle and a pug- a Bug. My wife was alarmed when I expressed enthusiastic interest in the homely Bug, going so far to name him “My Bug” and vowing to bring him home the following week if nobody took him yet. Well, someone else got My Bug, and I hope they’re treating him right.

Many times there are mixes that include Bull Terriers, Rottweilers and Dobermans, and I always ask them the same thing I asked My Bug and the countless other hopeful puppies who look at us, hoping for a home and loving family: “Who wants to be in a dog pack?” Invariably they all cock their heads and give you us a look that says “I do,” and I know that’s anthropomorphizing at its worst… so sue me.

Today, dog-fighting is in the news and Michael Vick suddenly finds himself playing defense instead of offense. Our legal system will provide Vick with every opportunity to prove his innocence. I sincerely hope he had nothing to do with cruelty to animals since America is suffering right now from a world-wide perception that we’re all a bunch of violently swaggering lunatics. It would really be a shame if someone from the NFL contributed to this misconception, since most of us normal folks adhere to our charge to rule over and care for all the living things that move along the ground.

And if Jim starts pairing up his canaries and chinchillas, I’ll let you know so you can all head for the hills.