At What Point Does Your Love of Animal(s) Officially Make You a Whack Job?
I grew up in a home devoid of pets. My mother, a Nigerian native, found mammals that move on all fours to be frightening and detestable (I should add fetid animals too, as I don’t think she would have approved of me bringing home a monkey). She still finds it inconceivable that people choose to live under the same roof as non-human creatures. One time, without consulting my mother, my dad bought my brother and me a hamster. Wrong animal to start my family off with — it resembled an over-sized mouse or an underweight rat, depending on how you looked at. We had the thing for a couple of weeks, as I recall, before it mysteriously died. To this day, I am convinced that Mother had something to do with it. All this is to say that I having a gaping hole in my heart where most people are filled with love, or at least admiration, for domesticated beasts. To me, a dog is a dog is a dog and they all smell. Cats are tolerable if declawed and have short-to-no hair. Birds are worthless and sh*t every 11 seconds and fish, well, do I even have to go there? I mean, my brother and I named our hamster Terradactyl — further proof that we were completely out-of-touch with the animal kingdom.
Now that you’ve read my biography, imagine my utter shock at reading about Patricia Morre of Naples, Florida. After losing her dog, Samantha, she hired a professional seamstress to craft a pillow that could hold a sack of Samantha’s cremated ashes in its center. This is not a joke. She’s branching out further and attempting to launch a line, Soft-Hearted Products, to make this nonsense available to the public. For 110 bucks a pop you can nuzzle your face in the dusty remnants of what used to be your beloved pooch. Disturbing. If you don’t believe me, Google her. I cannot make this sh*t up.
I expect such irrational behavior from PETA members, and for all I know Patricia is one, but IF this ever becomes a fad, I will pack up and move in with Michael Vik stat. Relax! That’s hyperbole; but seriously, whack jobs like Patricia have lost out on a very important lesson: everything in life has a run. When it’s over, let it go. It’s time to call the dog quits.
Posted by Elizabeth