How many times have I expounded about the animal kingdom of which we humans are all a part. Not only am I allergic to many, but I have rigid opinions about our relationship to what we sometimes term as the lower animals. In ancient China dogs were highly trained and over time dogs have served not only as pets but as work dogs to herd sheep or even to follow the trail of a killer. As city environments developed, small dogs or cats that could fit easily into a little apartment became people companions. When I insist that pets are owned and not allowed to live with animals of their own kind, I am told, “My cat owns me.” Yeah right. When I see a poodle in the purse of a human being I joke about having a surgeon make my bulging stomach skin into a pouch for a poodle. Just kidding of course.

Now let’s consider animals that are killed for human consumption. There are activist groups that work against animal torture—such as animals kept in cages awaiting slaughter. I never could figure out why it is torture to treat animals badly before they are killed but not considered torture to kill them for market. I know that pain is often a part of life but is killing another living creature ever justified?

Remember when animal activists spray painted people who were wearing fur?
When I saw these activists downtown I always looked down at their feet to see if they were wearing leather shoes. That would have been a contradiction, right?

I must admit that I have a fur collar that was made to wear on a winter coat. Another fox lost its life to be draped around my shoulders. I have another fur piece with the head and tail intact. I once brought it to a museum show that I prepared in the school library to show children things from the past. One teacher insisted that I take it out of the exhibit as it was terrible evidence of animal cruelty.

And yes, our children had pets. There are paw prints in our cement floor in the garage to remind us of the patter of little kitten feet before the cement dried. I could have spared myself a childhood of allergic reaction if I had learned that my symptoms were from my own cat. But that would have robbed me of the memory of my cat bringing her kittens into my bedroom to keep me company when I had measles where I had to be in dim light to protect my eyes.

But our pets were not cooped up in the house. My cat Blackie stayed outside most of the time and mingled with her own kind. Her kittens were evidence of that fact. Yes, my family believed in cats and dogs living full lives of their own. Our relationship with them was secondary to their living free outdoors. So there is no way for animals that have been bred over centuries to be human companions to go back to the wild. That day is gone. To be fed and housed is more than some homeless people achieve so I guess I can’t complain anymore about pets being owned by humans if they are housed and fed.
No one said that life is perfect.

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer who can be reached at gnkunkel@comcast.net or 206-935-8663.