I love animals, I really do, so that’s why I feel so badly for these poor creatures who are forced to live in such tiny cramped boxes, also known as New York City apartments. I wouldn’t call myself a card-carrying member of PETA or anything, but it seems inhumane to have them live in a place that goes against their natural instincts.
Dogs should always be jumping around and running free, rolling around in the grass with their tails wagging and their tongues hanging out. Dogs in New York, however, waddle along obediently on a leash and only have sidewalks and trash bags to sniff on. Their tails limp, their fur matted, their eyes clouded and crusty, they always look like they’re about to keel over.
It seems that dog owners get more out of the relationship than their pets do. In fact, according to a recently published article in the New York Times titled “New York Burial Plots Will Now Allow Four-Legged Companions,” domesticated animals are now allowed to be buried with their owners. They can now be united and decompose together forever in a cemetery plot. I’m sure that’s what the dog wanted all along.
I was sitting on a crowded subway the other night, when I noticed that the tan canvas tote bag that was right in front of my face had a furry nose sticking out of it. It belonged to a lady that had it slung over her shoulder, as if it were an ordinary purse. The nose belonged to a dachshund, and it was sitting in the bag very still, with its nose pulsating as if desperately trying to breathe. The owner may be considered an animal lover to some, but I felt so badly for this poor dog who was forced to sit in this lady’s bag, suspended in mid-air, constrained to be perfectly still on a crowded subway car. It was like a type of urban animal torture. I imagined slashing the straps of the tote bag to release it from its misery and screaming “You’re free, doggie! You’re free!”
Recently, my church held a service called “The Blessing of the Animals” as part of the celebration of the Feast of St. Francis. It was where everybody could bring their pets in to church to have them blessed by the rector. On a typical Sunday, it’s quiet and barely half full. On this particular Sunday, the service was completely packed. It was standing room only, and I had to stand at the back by the entrance next to a lady and her rabbit. I’ve never even seen these people before. It’s as if they sprouted out of nowhere. They were more concerned about the salvation of their pets than they were of themselves. Or maybe they were just taking advantage of the fact that they were allowed to bring their fury critters inside a building without being scolded for it.
You think New Yorkers are tough? Just observe them with their pooches, and their tough New York exterior just melts away. I’ve never seen so much PDA in church before- the hugging, the kissing, the abundant ardent phrases they whispered into their receivers’ floppy ears. They slung their poodles over their shoulders and patted their backs soothingly like a baby. They dressed up their terriers in pink satin with matching booties and pearls. They snapped selfies with their pets to post on Instagram. They could go deep into conversation with their pets than they can to another human being.
I wonder if these dogs ever have a chance to realize how different their lives would be if they had a different owner. How their fates were determined by whether a guy from Scranton picked them up from the litter box instead of the lady from the Upper West Side. Scranton: Spacious backyard with trees and your own little door to go in and out of the house as you please. Upper West Side: Where you have to hold it until your owner comes back to let you out, or if you’re really lucky, the dog walker to come pick you up, so you can go pee on a slab of concrete.
I’ve noticed that the dogs in New York always perk up their ears and wiggle their tail whenever a stranger passes them by on the street. It makes them look so optimistic and hopeful for something. They’re probably wishing that the stranger is from Scranton and will take them away from this godforsaken place.