Today, I saw a piece on the news about teams going around New Orleans and other affected areas looking for the abandoned pets, and I realized how beholden I was. I had already started thinking about this last week at the Atlanta bloggers meetup, at which they pass around a napkin for a roll call which includes a random, simply-answered question: this time, it was something like, “If you could only save one thing,” e.g. from a flood or a fire or a FEMA. A number of us — yours truly included — answered “My dog.” I had to say that, because my dog was in my lap watching what I wrote down. Between that and the CNN piece, I could feel my heart just sink at the thought of having to even consider abandoning my new companion, even when my own life was at stake. Holy crap, I'm accountable to something, some living, loving thing. That bites.

As a reward for my realization today, my dog decided to express to me that she is so happy I might risk life and limb to keep her with me at all times by spontaneously evolving into a Chewer. After 3 weeks of behaving very, very well when left alone during the day with free run of most of the apartment — some of those days being long 10 hour shifts on Tuesdays when I can't get home for lunch — without chewing a damn thing (though she has been known to move things), she had an epiphany today. The remote controls for both TVs met a horrible demise — the one in the living room being shredded on top of the couch that Sarah should know she is NOT allowed upon. My bed, along with various bits and pieces of remote control, is also strewn with scraps of paper taken out of my waste paper basket, and a box of doo-dads that she had to really go looking for to shred.

I don't know what's more frustrating: sitting here not being able to change the channel, or yelling pointlessly at a dog who will never, ever be able to tell just what in the shit she was thinking when she went berserk.



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