Why Stop at Same-Sex Marriage?
by Maggie Van Ostrand
Extensive media coverage
about same-sex marriage has given me a new envelope-pushing idea about a
marriage commitment. I think the Supremes should hear my argument about
marriage between my dog and me. Well, why not? Humans have certainly pawed me
often enough.
Marriage with human males
didn’t work out too well, but a marriage with my dog, this particular dog,
would. Of course such a union should carry medical coverage and appropriate tax
deductions.
My dog is named Cejas. He
is much more agreeable than any human mate I've ever had, and I don’t care if
his ancestry is uncertain. My ancestors were from all over the place so,
technically, that makes me a kind of mutt, too.
Mutts love to ride in
cars. On a road trip east from Los Angeles to everyplace else, Cejas never
objected when I screamed obscenities at the GPS for directing us into a tunnel
wall in Asheville NC. And not once did he whine "Are we there yet?"
Between Nashville TN and Asheville
NC, we went through a hard-hitting hailstorm with huge icy missiles crashing
onto the roof and hood of the car, annihilating the paint. Perhaps Tiger Woods
was teeing off and yelling “I’m champ again!” or Minnesota Fats yelling “Hail
ball in the side pocket!”
Driving in Kentucky, I
looked over at Cejas sitting next to me, all decked out in his black and tan
fur with the white tie, and said, "Hey, there's a sign saying it's only 20
miles to Lincoln's birthplace. Wanna go?" He put his fortune-cookie-shaped
ears in drive, speed-wagged his tail in circles like the propeller on a
helicopter and grinned with anticipation of a side trip. As we headed south,
Cejas clued me in that Lincoln had given his dog the unimaginative name of
"Fido." Very disappointing, considering Lincoln's genius with the
language. This was the man who wrote The Gettysburg Address? It wasn't bad
enough that Lincoln named his dog Fido, he named his horse, "Bob."
But I digress. Fido was a floppy-eared, rough-coated, yellowish dog who waited
outside the barbershop chasing his own tail for amusement, while Lincoln got a
hair cut. Cejas is full of such interesting trivia ever since he stopped
chasing his own tail and learned how to read.
Cejas also has a sense of
humor. When we were in Memphis, parked across from Graceland and next to
Presley's jet, the "Lisa Marie," his upper lip went into an uncanny
Elvis-like sneer. It did not detract from the effect when I finally realized
his lip was caught on a tooth.
We managed to get into a
"no pets" motel in Albuquerque simply because Cejas agreed to walk on
his hind legs and wear a trench coat. In Amarillo, I passed him off as a
seeing-eye dog by wearing sunglasses and fitting him with a fake harness I made
out of an umbrella rib.
Best stealth trick of all
was the Hilton in El Paso. We sashayed up to the front desk and glommed on a
prominently placed sign: “No dogs allowed.” I said to the clerk, “This is no
ordinary dog. He is a retired movie dog.” Cejas’s alleged film credit caused
the nervous reservation clerk to seek advice from the night manager. The wiry
young manager appeared, walking with great authority, wearing horn-rimmed
glasses and a bow tie which he nervously snapped against his Adam's Apple. He
leaned over the desk, looked at the dog and, like a fan at an Oscars red
carpet, said, “What might I have seen him in?” I lied that he had been a stunt
dog in “Benji,” and an extra in “100 Dalmatians” “Really?” said the impressed
manager, “I think I remember him!” He gave us a ground floor suite with a door
that led directly onto a large grassy area. Superbly mannered, Cejas left no
reminders on the grass that he had ever been there.
Another reason I want to
marry Cejas is how well he handles responsibility. When he has to see the vet,
he doesn't moan and groan about hating doctors and hospitals like human males
do -- he just goes right along without resisting. I’m sure he’d drive himself
there if the DMV hadn’t refused to issue him a learner’s permit. You know how
much red tape there is at any bureaucracy, so you can imagine what it’s like
for a Canine application.
Another benefit to having
a dog for a mate is that I can introduce him to all my girlfriends without fear
they'll seduce him, since most of them probably wouldn't want to date such a
short and hairy guy whose nose is always running.
Groucho must've been
referring to Cejas when he said, "Outside of a dog, a book is man's best
friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."
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