113 dogs

There’s been a little hole in the apartment since Elliephant died. A little buzzing from the silence. Ears straining to hear the pat pat pat of her walking around.

We don’t want another cat yet. But we’ve been trying to fill the silence. So we’re babysitting a devil cat who, years ago, peed on my things, peed on my friend’s passport, and rubbed his shit on my white dress while I was wearing it.

Now he’s older and wiser. He rests his big stomach on my arms in the morning, telling me to stop and watch the sunrise. His wet nose finds its way under my thumbs. His meow crackles when he wants love, and he is worthy of it. He was always worthy of it.

We’ve signed up to be cat foster parents. It could be months before we get ‘matched.’ In the meantime, I’m on the list-serv. This week I learned there are currently 113 dogs at the animal shelter. According to their statistics, ten percent will be euthanized. The rest will suffer in their own way.

I can’t take in 113 dogs. I can’t take in one dog. I can take a cat or two. But what about the others?

Do you remember the Sarah McLaughlin ads about animals? The sad music, the ‘what about the animals’? I remember. I am pro-animal, but I remember laughing. The sappiness. The blatant heartstring tug. And the queasy feeling. How manipulative it felt. Step one: Make someone sad. Step two: Profit!

But really, what about the animals?

I bought a ring with Ellie’s face on it. I want to be reminded of her for…