Don’t politicians realize the “unimportance” of commercials, billboards, yard banners and fliers? Nothing disconnects a potential voter from wanting to participate quicker than shallow promises and unlikely guarantees attached to finger pointing so sharp Mom would slap the silly smile off their face.
But every November the contenders are given legal permission to litter sight and sound with constant reminders of “who” but never “where.” “What” doesn’t matter because it’s difficult to trust. “How” and “when” are automatic but it still takes every medium to remind you of something you’d rather forget.
A different type of election is currently taking place in the house of Arroe. Over the weekend we tragically and unexpectedly lost our Alpha dog Harold. A bright little guy that never hung posters for reelection, nor did he waste time filibustering for better puppy treats or promised to stop chasing squirrels if the mail carrier started including them on daily drop offs.
Harold rarely if ever raised his bark, snort or sniff. Being the Alpha automatically put him in charge. He slept at the top of the bed while the others snuggled near my stinky feet. Harold was always given dinner first because he felt a need to convince me that he was better or felt a need to knock the others down to get the food faster. There was no need for him to bark or howl over the excitement. He spent most of his day playing with toys while the others chased every shadow and sound. When it was time to do his business outside, he did it then quickly got back to be being fun. He knew the human neighbors, he’d run to their yards never barking just acknowledging because one of the seven needs of life is acceptance…so he it was his mandate to love everyone.
In the past 72 hours I’ve quickly learned about Harold’s importance. The peace and harmony he put into play is gone while the three other rescues race, stumble, trip and verbally holler in his absence; each coming from conditions so horrid that Humane Society employees were brought in to free them from bad at the puppy mill.
The single most important piece of their daily journey toward the food bowl and then outside for walks is missing. Who will be the new Alpha?
Sophia was a former champion show dog scheduled to be put down because her babies no longer had value. Two business men owned her, a caged life and style to keep her from getting injured. Almost no people skills nor does she have patience or a willingness to allow another pet to get more attention.
Sami, the top dog from his kennel, the maker; bread to breed…late night rescue in Florida five years ago set him free; he loves to dance, cuddle up in small balls in the corner of the sofa and be alone 99.3 percent of the time. His butt is always cold. Only wants human contact when he’s in the mood or you have puppy treats larger than popsicles.
MJ, a one time stallion, brilliantly white, fur so soft it melts in your hands, medically operated on to make, make and make; lived most of his life in extremely too small of a cage forcing him to walk on his elbows. No people skills or desire to be with other animals unless you are warm and don’t mind constant licking and trembling.
Right now, each sit in their respective worlds gathering thought but never approaching a leadership role. If barking is to be had the three of them stare at each other asking if it’s ok? By the time their reasons for wanting to talk in dog speak comes into a full display the thought of it seems boring so each of them return to their places of play.
Humans on the other hand have been trained to whip out cardboard lawn art cutouts and king sized radio and television ads to bash the opponent. Being big, small, tall, wide or itty bitty comes with a price which each election years grows deeper into the millions. That’s not even counting the amazingly high amount of time spent keeping your personal life clear of any skeletons or burning desires to make a normal person's investment in a project that may or may not make it because if it doesn’t…sorry…that’s gonna cost ya.
It’s un-American to boycott elections. Yet it feels like you’re at the Super Bowl with the two worst teams in the league.
There’s more armchair quarterbacking taking place in politics than wanna be players checking out the World Series between the Rangers and Giants.
In a dog eat dog world my three rescues will soon elect their decision maker Alpha and although I pay for their food and vet bills, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. The growls, sudden attacks at the knees and quick decision to leap up on their Dad’s lap for attention is the only price required to be named King. No promises, no false guarantees or reasons to knock each other off a position in life that is supposed to represent American quality and the only thing we get from every election is spoiled rich people snots.
Just one time I’d love to see a real person whose been trampled by the society we’ve created to take the reins and lead the way. Which is my way of admitting that I’d love MJ to be the Mack Daddy leader of the rescues—of the three he’s been to the Holy war, seen the enemy eye to eye and has enough common sense to walk peacefully toward a successful conclusion rather than be convinced to stand on his back legs and accept a bribe.
I can’t tell you to vote. Nor can I tell you how to vote. I read the same signs as you do and watch the very commercials from politicians who promise a better future yet spend millions convincing us the other man or woman is the biggest mistake since the invention of a chocolate mayonnaise fried salmon sandwich.
From the outside it really does come across that being the best for the job means nothing. Like a courtroom jury…the best always figures out ways to get out. True Alpha’s lead…the rest are dogs that follow.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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