There are certain things you don’t want to know about your dog.
You don’t want to know what carcass they rolled on at the park.
You don’t want to know how death tastes on their tongue.
It’s easy to forget they’re a different species when you let them sleep on your bed, kiss you on the mouth, and dress them up as a pumpkin which earns 5,000 likes because they are So. Fucking. Cute.
I was proud of Goldie, even though I’m vegan.
I was proud because she was insanely adorbs, just like me. As if I had shot her out my hoochie instead of adopting her at that shelter.
I was proud the first time she caught a bunny and came prancing toward me with it dangling from her teeth. Ooh! A present for mommy!
I bragged to all my vegan friends who said yes, she has good instincts, unlike most humans. “They love a good burger but get all save-the-cow when one escapes and goes viral and then they name it but get outraged when #Bessie gets caught and shipped to the slaughter house.”
We never discussed how many cows were killed to cook the kibble we fed our pets, but my friends loved Goldie. They said she was the most beautiful Golden Retriever. They said that should anything ever happen, they would adopt her. Guaranteed.
***
The one time I wasn’t proud was the last time my father babysat her. He had a stroke and collapsed on the kitchen floor. Goldie’s food bowl lay beside his dead body, empty.
***
There are certain things about dogs you don’t know until you do.
They will eat kibble and pretend they like it.
They will kiss you and pretend they love you.
When I returned and opened my father’s door, Goldie came rushing to greet me, tail thumping, body wiggling. So. Fucking. Cute. Though she smelled disgusting.
“Daddy! I’m back!” I yelled, kneeling, as she jumped all over me. I forgot to keep my mouth shut and she frenched me.
***
Here is something you don’t learn unless necessary:
People with diabetes and numb feet should never sleep with a dog in the room lest their pet gnaw off their extremities.
I told the people at the adoption center that I lived in a studio apartment and had caught diabetic neuropathy from a cousin. My heart was broken. Could they please help me? Here’s my receipt.
But no. They wanted a note from my doctor because too many assholes lied and abandoned their pets when they behaved in a manner normal for their species.
***
It’s super easy to judge people who abuse their pets.
I wasn’t abusing my dog. Yes, I’d locked her in the basement, but an automatic feeder kept her bowl full of kibble, and I changed the pee pads on the cement floor once a week.
“Why do we say these animals deserve names, but those can be slaughtered and eaten?” one friend said to me. “It’s so arbitrary. Millions of people on this planet eat dogs, but we freak out because to us, they’re family. Others eat cows, but in India, they’re holy.”
“Truth,” I said, though I no longer used my dog’s name, and her mouth was allowed nowhere near me. I accused her of being a beast, but she just looked at me, glad I was speaking to her, hoping I’d forgiven whatever she couldn’t remember, her tail sweeping away memories easy as dust bunnies.
“Do you want my dog?” I asked.
Um no. All my friends knew what she’d done to Daddy. All had forgotten their guarantee.
***
Cancel culture is a feeding frenzy.
You would not believe the hate that streamed my way when I dressed the dog up as Santa and posted that she needed re-homing.
“Goldie is your child and your responsibility, you selfish bitch,” replied one friend.
I’ve always been proud to be a bitch, but that dog did not come out of my hoochie. She wasn’t nearly as cute as me, and she bore no resemblance to Daddy.
***
People say you should be critical of what you read online.
Supposedly, in addition to beef, kibble can contain roadkill, dead zoo animals, and euthanized pets.
“Isn’t it wrong to keep pets?” I asked the last friend who still spoke to me. “To act like we own them, lock them indoors, then cannibalize them for the next?”
“It’s wrong how you’re treating Goldie.”
“What about what it did to Daddy?”
“He probably loved it. He loved her, and he loved recycling. You’re just being mean.”
***
I read once that domesticated dogs cannot survive if released into the wild, but there’s a song that says that if you love something, you should set it free.
I’m sure the forest is full of Dobermans and Poodles and Shepherds, running and playing and hunting together. Probably they are friends with Bambi. Probably they are happier than me. Except for that Golden Retriever that chased me to my car and my car down the road until I reached escape velocity.
***
Doctors say that hallucinations are common amongst the guilty.
I thought I heard her tail thumping in the basement, but when I descended the stairs – nothing. Then an app sent me a memory. Bing! Goldie wearing a tiara on her first birthday. 500 likes. I trolled my own feed. Discovered a likeness between her smile and Daddy’s.
That night, I peed on her pads. I slept on her bed. I dreamt of rolling on a carcass and awoke feeling frisky. For breakfast, I ate her kibble on my hands and knees.
***
Every day I drive to the forest, calling her name. Every day I beg for forgiveness. Every day I promise to buy her pure ground #Bessie. I promise to stop using her as a prop in my feed. Every day I promise to stop acting So. Fucking. Human. I promise and I promise, but still, no guarantees.
