All Dogs and Babies Go to Heaven

(This column was published in the
March 11th, 2008 issue of the QSaltLake)

---

I just so happen to be writing this column on the very day my dog celebrates his ninth birthday. Now, for those who are of the opinion that “facts” should “matter,” I’ll admit that today isn’t ‘technically’ my dog’s birthday but the one-year anniversary of the day I adopted him. I don’t actually know when my dog was born as the Utah Humane Society, where I adopted him, was unsure of his date of birth. I’ve since decided that for simplicity’s sake, I would celebrate the anniversary of the day I adopted him as his birthday.
You know, similar to the way Karl Rove’s parents celebrate his birthday on the day they adopted him from a pack of wolves.

My dog is my baby. Anyone who doubts that simply has to hear anything that comes out of my mouth. “Did I tell you about the time my dog …”; “Isn’t it cute that my dog …”; “You’ll never believe that my dog …” Yeah, I’m disgusting. For those who happen to be familiar with the stereotype of the gay man who effeminately babies his dog, this stereotype was based on one person.

You’re welcome.

Most gay men either a) own a dog, b) wish they owned a dog, or c) are a dog. Why is this? While dogs happen to be popular with people of all races, sexual orientations and walk of life, dogs tend to be even more popular in the gay community. I know many gay people who have dogs. In fact, the last time I wet to PetSmart to buy dog food, I encountered so many gay men in the aisles that I couldn’t help but wonder if I hadn’t somehow ended up at Try-Angles.

Compounding my confusion is the fact that I have a habit of drinking at both Try-Angles and PetSmart.

Gay men and women appear to have more of an affinity for dogs than straight men and women – is this true? One might assume this is because dogs are the closest way a gay man or woman may come to fulfilling their desire of having a complete family. My seasoned research team (who happens to go by the name of “looking stuff up on Google”) tells me that for those who happen to reside in the states of Arkansas, Florida, Michigan, Mississippi, New Hampshire or Utah, joint adoption is not an option. It only makes sense that gay men and women, in an attempt at fulfilling their desire to care for progeny, would turn to the next available solution.

By which I mean dogs. To those who assumed the “next available solution” would be “porn,” I say, “that is incorrect.” Though I will admit porn never has to be taken in for a rabies vaccine.

If by some bizarre twist of fate, Utah suddenly granted the right to gay men and women to adopt whomever we want (I call dibs on adopting Gary Coleman, but only because I’d be able to carry him around in a purse like a Chihuahua), would we be up to the challenge? I don’t know if I would; I have to admit that I’m comfortable with babying a dog instead of babying a baby. When I first adopted my dog, many friends thought I wasn’t “responsible” or “mature” or “even that smart” to be able to care for a living being who made the inconvenient mistake of not being me. I proved these people wrong by caring for my dog for a year now. Nevertheless, taking a dog out to poop twice a day is quite different from a baby who poops seventeen times a day. And needs to be fed. And won’t sleep through the night. And who needs to learn the entire English language. And who needs to have a chaperone at his or her prom. And who needs to know where babies come from.

I relish the fact that I never need to teach my dog where babies come from.

Someday, we may be able to marry and adopt. Whether five years from now, ten years from now, or a Larry King lifetime from now, we may someday find ourselves living in a state where we are able to marry and adopt freely, and will find that the only thing preventing us from doing so is our own cowardice. Perhaps we might benefit to remember the following:

If we can keep a plant alive for a certain period of time, we’ll know we’re ready for a pet.

If we can keep a pet alive for a certain period of time, we’ll know we’re ready for a relationship.

If we can maintain a relationship with someone for a certain period of time, we’ll know we’re ready for an adopted child.

And if we can keep an adopted child alive for a certain period of time, then we’ll know we’re ready to own Sea Monkeys. Cause damn, those things are really, really hard to keep alive. I always kill my Sea Monkeys.

But meanwhile, I have a bone-themed birthday party to throw.

Comments

[Molly]

Hahaha! I laughed so hard about the sea monkeys. You are too funny.