Original Publication Information:
Suedomsa the Magazine December 1997 Volume One,
Issue Two
Animal Kingdom by Tabitha Wharton
I've always felt that I have an affinity for animals, but somehow whenever
I'm around them, some kind of horrible tragedy befalls them. I don't
mean anvils dropping from the sky or anything, but something always seems
to go wrong. When I was growing up, my mother raised Chihuahuas and
canaries. Shadow, one of the dogs, ate the stub of my bellybutton when I
was a baby. I contributed to the demise of several canaries by feeding
them household plant leaves.
But still I loved animals and dreamed of being a veterinarian. My dog,
Ruffles, was born two days before I was and bacame my constant companion
until when I was in fourth grade and we had to have her put to sleep. I
didn't understand the reason then, but I do now. At about age 6, I
adopted a scraggly orange cat that had kittens in our garage. I called
her Rosarita, the bean cat. I think my dad did something with her, but I
never found out for sure.
At 10, I bought a used hamster. I think I was working my way up the chain
to buying a used car, but who knows. Anyway, this hamster was older than
God himself, and ended up giving me and my 4-year-old sister a skin
disease called scabies, where little bugs crawl under your skin and make
you itch. All it looks like is little bumps, but they're bugs. So we
moved the smelly old hamster outside (in his cage of course) to let him
torment the neighborhood cats. One morning my sister went outside and
came up to the porch with the hamster in her hands. "Look mom, he's
tame!" she says. You bet it was tame, it was dead. I'd say that's about
as tame as they get.
Over the years, I've had two other dogs, cocker spaniels. Luckily nothing
too horrible has happened to them (cross your fingers), but since May,
when I moved out on my own, I've had a whole host of interesting
experiences which make me question the basic humanity of everyone around
me. My dad refused to have his 15-year-old dog Ginger, who had epilepsy,
arthritis, was blind, deaf, and no longer had teeth, put to sleep because
it would cause him too much pain. Then poor dog couldn't even go outside
to relieve herself anymore, and he was worried about his pain?
Then there's a friend of mine (who shall remain nameless) who has a
15-year-old car who is no longer able to digest food. Although the cat is
nothing but a skeleton with skin, my friend refuses to put her to sleep
because she's had the cat since she was a baby. Nice. And this friend
also has a big dog that is completely blind in one eye because of some
childhood accident, and it has enormous fat tumors all over its body.
There's one on its stomach that looks like an udder, it's so big. When I
asked why they didn't have the vet surgically remove them, she said they
told her it would give the dog a heart attack. Then I said well, why
don't you put it to sleep? She replied that the dog was perfectly happy.
Tell me, how happy would you be if you couldn't lay down on your stomach
because you have a tumor the size of a basketball in the way? I wouldn't
be happy at all.
Between all of this and the cats I've had to rescue from people in my
apartment complex, I'm surprised that I haven't soured towards people
entirely. Two kittens in the parking lot were hit by a car. I saved them
and cleaned them up, but had to call animal control for them, because I
already have two cats of my own. I tried to foster a litter from the
animal foundation, who said on the news that if you foster from them, they
provide the food (they don't), but I couldn't afford to take care of seven
cats. Another poor stray followed me home, and much as I would have liked
to take her in, the neighborhood children, not to mention my ex-boyfriend,
had begun to call me "the cat lady" so I left her outside. The next
morning, the poor thing was dead of heat exhaustion or something in my
neighbor's patio. I had nightmares for two days.
All I can hope, anymore, is for people to care more about the animals
around them, but I know how hard it is. I can't weep for them all, and I
can't take them all in, all I can do is hope. I can't save the healthy
animals at the shelters from being put to sleep because no one wants them,
and I can't convince the people I know that putting a sick or old pet to
sleep is better for everyone. It's almost a no win situation, and
although sometimes I feel like my empathy may be the touch of death, all I
can do is try to help in whatever was is available.
