Raining Cats and Dogs

There are some people who shouldn't own a dog or a cat because their lifestyles don't really mesh with what is required to take care of an animal, perhaps especially apartment-dwellers who buy big hunting dogs or folks who get their animals' voice boxes clipped so they don't have to put up with (or train away) barking. The people who left their animals on the steps at the Humane Society where I volunteered as a teenager with reasons like "I'm allergic" (you didn't know you were allergic before adopting this cat... three years ago?) or "doesn't get along with new kitten/new girlfriend/new sofa" (which at least is just the honest version of "I'm allergic") are pretty low on my totem pole as well.

Then there are people who really shouldn't own an animal. As in, I hope there is a register somewhere in which their names can be jotted down and then sent out to all kinds of pet adoption black lists. One of those people is this Swedish hunter who dragged his dog to death behind his car.

For those of you who don't read Swedish, here's the short translation: when the group of hunters were done bagging and tagging for the day, one guy forgot that he'd tied his dog to his trailer hitch and just drove away, dragging the dog 20 km. A witness saw him drive by and tried to stop him, but by the time the guy figured it out the dog had, of course, passed on. The police are hoping the man has conscience enough to turn himself in for the crime of animal cruelty, and they urge people to tie dogs to trees or a stake in the ground rather than a car -- apparently this type of accident isn't totally unheard of in the case of hunters and their dogs.

So, I'm sure this incident wasn't malicious or pre-meditated. It was certainly a mistake. But a mistake that is so unforgiveable that it's both criminal and a more than good reason for this person to never own a dog again. If I have a brain fart serious enough to cause my son or daughter to suffer unimaginable torture and then die, then I'd certainly expect to be rejected if I asked to adopt a new kid.

Then there are people who not only should never own an animal, but would have a special place in hell if I were its architect. Included in this group is a guy named Charles C. Benoit and his grilling buddies. I remember reading this story when I was in grad school. It is definitely in my top 5 "What the hell is wrong with people!" mental scrapbook.

Aside from the hunting dog, another new entry was added to that scrapbook yesterday. Here you have video proof that there are far too many people in the world who are a waste of oxygen.



The veterinarian in the video wonders, if a group of teenagers can kick around a tiny little kitten until one of his legs is almost ripped off, then how do these young men treat other people? While I wonder that as well, I also actually think that it takes a lot more gooey, poisonous ooze in one's soul to treat an animal this way than it does to be cruel to another human being. Some level of dislike for other people is something we can all understand, even if it doesn't lead most of us to act out violently. But the part where someone thinks it's fun to kick a little kitten around like a football, that I cannot fathom.

Fredrik and I reacted differently to these two stories, which both showed up in the news yesterday. By that I don't mean that he wasn't upset; I knew he would think it was just as horrid as I did. I sent him links to the stories over chat. He saw the URL of the video ("cat.used.as.football"...) and watched 3 seconds before replying to me in all caps to never, ever send him something like that again. I, on the other hand, have watched the video at least 10 times. I guess it's a sick form of catharsis; if there are morons in the world that can do this to an animal, then I'd rather ruthlessly confront myself with that fact. This blog is, after all, the Pessimist's Cookbook, not the Sheltered Happy Girl Chronicles. It makes me feel a little more human to poke the evoked sore spot inside me with a sharp stick and confirm that it hurts (how's that for arguing that pessimism brings about self-actualization?). And, of course, the video didn't show me the actual violence or the image of Polly's little body lying broken and bloody on the ground; rather, it was a video of an adorable little furball who was purring away like crazy and stumbling around just like any other kitten, even if he was doing so with only three legs to stand on.

I hope Polly ends up in a good home where someone can feed him lots of tuna and snuggle him 20 times a day. I also hope that cats don't have nightmares and vivid memories of nasty things. I hope all of you that have 4-legged-type-creatures at home give them an extra hug today, because that will just make me feel better.