Indulging our Pets.

I've done it. I admit it. My miniature schnauzer has three sweaters, all of which match his silky, silver fur. And little red boots. He has little red boots. And a parka...that matches mine. But let me explain! He gets really cold! We're in Minnesota, after all, where it is currently -14 degrees Fahrenheit, with a wind chill of -39. Temperatures that cold mean ice melt on the sidewalks, the chemical makeup of which will probably be another post--nasty stuff! It burns his feet and sends him hobbling down the sidewalk on three feet, so the little red boots are a necessity. And the matching parkas, well, that's too long an explanation, but trust me, there is one, and it's a perfectly reasonable one. It's not like I'm dressing him in a T-shirt that reads, "Diva," though I could, because he is.

I found a website that sells a doggie wardrobe for hanging all your doggie dresses. It comes with 20 doggie-sized hangers. This is what set me off on my latest bout of introspection. I found myself laughing at anyone who would pony up $100 for a piece of dog furniture. But then I started tallying what I have spent and continue to spend on keeping my dog alive and comfortable, and I realized that while i would not spend my time writing an amazon.com review of a tiny, overpriced attitude tee, just the fact that I have a pet at all is indulgent. Dog waste is bad for the water table, so I clean it up, but then it has to be double bagged, so I put more plastic into a landfill. His plastic toys are made in countries with dubious labor records. He requires food, which is seldom grown/raised in an environmentally responsible way. And my dog is sick and old, so he needs a prescription food, which is definitely not responsibly or locally made. But there I go again...he NEEDS it.

Have you ever seen the book Material World? It is a photo record of what people all over the world own. The authors photographed representatives of each nation's "average" family with every single worldly possession displayed in front of their house. In some countries, their worldly possesions amount to three bowls and a stick for stirring. In the U.S., the average family photographed has enough to fill their entire cul-de-sac with stuff. When I get to feeling sorry for myself in this time of recession (which is hitting Minnesota pretty hard), I try to think about this book, and think about what is REALLY necessary.

Pets are like family, and we treat them as such, but only because we have that luxury in the U.S. I will think long and hard before getting another pet when Emmett passes away, but in the meantime, I pledge to remember that someone had to make that doggie parka, and I'm guessing that person doesn't live in a country where poeple buy doggie wardrobes. I can rationalize all I want; having pets is a luxury, and I am spoiled rotten. I should get myself a T-shirt.