The crated puppy, a tiny Welsh Terrier of about 8 weeks, cried alone in the air freight office having just flown across the country. She stopped for a moment when she saw me. I talked to her and she licked my finger tip stuck through the gate which was secured with zip ties. The attendant asked to see an ID. I showed her my driver's license, and with very little scrutiny she released the puppy into my care.
She didn't like the car ride much either. I thought maybe I should have put the crate in the front seat where she'd be closer to me and feel less abandoned, but now we were stuck in traffic, and there was nothing I could do about it. I talked to her, then sang to her, then sang to myself in order to keep the rising negative emotion at bay. Something else demanding of my attention, something loud with urgent needs. My body remembered a particular kind of tension, the anxiety and responsibility of raising very small children in a world that doesn't make it easy.
I wanted to stop somewhere to let her out of that crate, to give her water and food and the chance to move about, but I had to get off the highway first. Before I was able do that, a combination of the sound of the wheels and exhaustion from all that crying probably made her fall asleep.
We rode in silence for the next hour. I found myself worrying maybe the puppy had been crying because she was hanging or stuck or something, struggling to free herself and crying for my help, and I ignored her cries until she was exhausted, stopped struggling, and asphyxiated. How would I explain this to the woman texting every fifteen minutes for a status update?
She didn't like the car ride much either. I thought maybe I should have put the crate in the front seat where she'd be closer to me and feel less abandoned, but now we were stuck in traffic, and there was nothing I could do about it. I talked to her, then sang to her, then sang to myself in order to keep the rising negative emotion at bay. Something else demanding of my attention, something loud with urgent needs. My body remembered a particular kind of tension, the anxiety and responsibility of raising very small children in a world that doesn't make it easy.
I wanted to stop somewhere to let her out of that crate, to give her water and food and the chance to move about, but I had to get off the highway first. Before I was able do that, a combination of the sound of the wheels and exhaustion from all that crying probably made her fall asleep.
We rode in silence for the next hour. I found myself worrying maybe the puppy had been crying because she was hanging or stuck or something, struggling to free herself and crying for my help, and I ignored her cries until she was exhausted, stopped struggling, and asphyxiated. How would I explain this to the woman texting every fifteen minutes for a status update?
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