Day 3,720—Sorry in Advance: Early Experience with Animals —

 

It was raining when I was first outside with my kids. I couldn’t wait to get going. It was the perfect rain to run in--light, refreshing, and soft. I wish I could call for this rain on demand. I wonder what that would look like? Would I push a button on my watch, or just think rain thoughts? I read recently there are a lot of people who feel the government is secretly controlling the weather. If that were the case, why do Florida politicians want to cause so much pain and suffering to the residents there? Yet, if I could control the rain, it would make a huge difference because I always feel amazing running downhill in the rain, splashing through puddles as I wave at the busy motorist. They all look at me like, “You know it’s raining, right?”

         And I don’t make eye contact, I am too happy to be brought down by the cynical driver. Like the guy in the white truck who was trying to make an illegal turn and was blocking the crosswalk. When I waved at him when I passed in front of him. He aggressively threw his hands forward, like he was telling me, “I see you! Go away!” If I were to speak with this person, I would say, “I belong here too.”

The story of Candy, Part I: two Boys and a Dog

         My dad took me to the animal shelter when I was younger than 8 but older than 4. It is one of those stories that I remember through someone else telling me about it. I don’t think I have any of my own memories from the event, which makes me think I was 5 years old.

         My dad said I picked out the dog. She was a mixed breed that was black and brown and looked like a dachshund. She was still a puppy when we got her, and I got to name her. I don’t know if I suggested “Candy,” as a serious name or was thinking that was my favorite thing as a kid, but the name stuck, and we all called her Candy.

    

         My older brother and I loved playing with Candy. We both chased her around our house and I remember her jumping over a footstool in our living room, and I thought she was so amazing that she could jump like that. She was always on my level and would sleep at the foot of my bed at night. 

Candy was a great dog and was always happy to see me, but as I got older, I started feeling guilty for liking dogs and other things that were considered not “manly” in my household. My dad bought the dog, but he always insisted that he did not like dogs or any animals, and somehow that it was a sign of weakness if someone did. Not really that different from most people, I am sure, who say things like, “Some people care more about animals than people!” As a way to call people like me (Vegans) bad, because somehow loving animals makes us less loving of people? That logic is funny to me now, but as a kid, I ate it up. My dad was the smartest person in the world to me. Why would he be less than honest? What would his motivation be? 

The second part of this story is hard for me to tell because I am still mad at myself for how little I did to stop what happened, but maybe telling the story will help. Tomorrow I will tell the second part, but at the same time, I don’t know if you should read it. It is an awful thing that happened. And I am not blaming anyone at this point, but the story is important to illustrate how my views on animals were formed through these early experiences. The positive thing to consider about my parents is that I deeply wanted a dog as a kid. My dad didn't want to get me a dog, but he still did.