To the Editor:
How often do we stop to consider how our little pleasures and perks can cause inconvenience to our fellow humans? Every time we order up a burger, do we think of the folks who live downwind of the stink of the feedlot and the slaughterhouse? As we drive down the interstate, do we think of the noise and pollution suffered by the ones unlucky enough to live in adjoining houses? For that matter, does the homeowner consider the dust and racket inflicted on the neighborhood when their house was built? I remember well-heeled Vail residents bitching about construction inconvenience when they themselves had been the cause of their own mess of mud and power saws just a few years before.
And then there’s the dog. Simple pleasures, man’s best friend and all, as long as you can let it run and poop somewhere else, so long as it doesn’t rush your fence with a bark and snarl when YOU walk past your front yard, so long as YOU don’t have to live downwind of the pet-food factory. Granted, there are working farm-and-ranch dogs who earn their keep and get fed on home-raised scraps, but the average dog’s only function is as an extension of your own ego, a vicarious opportunity to be irresponsible, brainless, and irresistible, not to mention raid your neighbor’s chicken coop. Oh no, that COULDN’T have been your dog.
At 6:10 am on a midsummer morning I stumbled into the antechamber to perch on my humble throne, and the neighbor’s two worthless mutts were right outside the window waiting for the show, shouldering each other out of the way to get a better view. Wow, bet that smells good, do you think there’s more? (I won’t go into the reason I have a series of low mullion windows in the poophouse). At that hour I wasn’t quite hitting on all four cylinders, and it came to my addled mind that a loud noise would run them off. Bam, went my fist, and crack went the inner windowpane. No longer was I the morning’s entertainment, but I’d made more repair work for myself.
I’ve been bit and chased while hiking with a heavy pack and while bicycling on public roads, I’ve been harassed and threatened while peaceably walking down city streets, I’ve had gore and feathers where I should have had poultry, all because of someone else’s presumed prerogative to harbor canines irresponsibly. Not to mention the racket of ceaseless yapping, which carries a surprising distance in these open spaces. Let’s face it, it’s irresponsible to let one run loose, or even walk them on a leash so they can poop on the curb or on the grass, to bring them to a stranger’s house without permission, or to anyplace where children and/or food are vulnerable, to tie them up on the street while you go into a building, even to walk them on a leash in public where they might get into a disturbance with another passing animal and cause collateral damage to toddlers or others. There is such a thing as a well-mannered dog but even they can unwittingly get into situations beyond their control and yours. And it’s a rare dog indeed who would be effective in stopping a determined burglar or assailant.
Where does your entitlement to swing your fist end? Where my face begins. And so it is with entitlements and perks, be they stinky yachts or hummers, feedlot beefsteaks, carbon footprints, or your indulgence in a hairy mammal friend. Thanks to Michael Horan of Moffat who operates a secure, humane, and remote dog shelter.
Slim Wolfe
Villa Grove, CO
Slim Wolfe’s cat barely raises an eyebrow when the mice cavort under the kitchen counters.
