Queremos Halloween

By the time I was ten, my parents finally, slowly released the vise-grip "no" on Halloween. I was allowed to go ask for candy. "Queremos Halloween," I remember chanting over and over. I was cautiously happy at my participation in this decadent holiday, but secretly wondered whether I was doing something wrong. Regret seeped in for all the possible costumes I could have worn in years gone by. I don't even remember what I ended up being for my first Halloween. I do remember a schpeal about how I was not celebrating a pagan holiday, I was still honoring God. All I really wanted was to be someone else, though. To have someone else's life. Don a cap, a cape a cloak and transform my oppresive, paternalistic life into a free and wild existence. I imagined a horse running, frothy through a field. This image slowly died as I realized I could never embody this horse. It's power was not mine, I had none. I did get candy, though.

Pet: v.

What is it about pets that even the name itself takes away all the negative and replaces it with an image of domestic bliss? Pet, to stroke, to love, to care for; that last part seems sometimes to be neverending. To care for. Everyday, sweep the hair, fill the bowls, scoop the poop, pet and soothe. Sometimes it seems too much. Never enough time anyway, add on top of it the demands of each individual animal and it seems not worth it. What do we get in return? Companionship, ok. Affection, sometimes.

Our neighbor's dog died this week. Choked to death. The pukey feeling in my stomach precedes the hurt of my heart. How awful to watch your dog die. Then, curiosity, "...knew he had died when his tongue rolled out" the morbidity of realizing the certainty. Dead.

The smell of the litterbox is death. The house is strewn with the remnants of our animals, reminders that we are not the only ones living here. Sometimes I wonder what it would look like to just not clean up after them. Would we bury ourselves in hair, dander, feces? We wouldn't be able to live with ourselves this way.

So, scoop and pet and placate. Need fresh water from the tap and not the bowl? Here, let me get that for you. Want to go out again even though we just went 5 minutes ago? Sure, let's go. What, you're stressed out because of a), b) or c)? Let me find the solution.

It can be exhausting to pet. It is a verb, not a noun. It requires constant attention and affection. Affection can be grueling some days. But what is the alternative? Death. Nonexistence. No cohabitation. Sounds lonely. Loneliness is much more grueling.

Things Overheard

Woman: I need to use your phone, it’s an emergency.

Clerk #1: It is normally reserved for business purposes.

Woman: I need an ambulance.

Clerk #1: Allright, dial 9 to get out.

Woman: Hello? I need ya’ll to send an ambulance.What’s wrong? I don’t feel good, that’s what.

I don’t know what the address is, ya’ll should be able to tell with the thingey.

Medication? Yeah.

Can ya’ll just send an ambulance NOW, my underwear area is on fire and I am about to scratch it?!

Where? You know, the area where you go pee and stuff, it itches and I need EMS to come look at it.

Clerk #1: I can’t believe what I just heard.

Clerk #2: Another day at the public library.

Clerk #1: Tax dollars well spent.