(Not Quite) Out to Pasture: All Creatures Great and Small

BY: CURTIS COMER

    I’ve had pets since I was a small child. And, if it wasn’t already clear to my parents that they were dealing with a pint-sized homosexual, the names I gave these animals probably said it all.

    I had a fish I named Brigitte, after the actress Brigitte Bardot; a horse that I named Ginger, after the character Ginger Grant from Gilligan’s Island and a spider monkey that I named Jackie, after Jackie Kennedy Onassis.

    Yes, I said a spider monkey and yes I grew up in south-eastern Kansas, far, far away from any rain forests. Suffice it to say that the monkey arrived courtesy of my drunken father one argument filled night. In the end, my poor mom lost the argument since the pet store was already closed for the night and her eventual capitulation at least spared her from having to listen to me whine another second about wanting to keep the animal.

    Unfortunately, I wasn’t always so clever when it came to naming my pets, particularly the males. My first dog, for instance, was a little tan dachshund who I simply named Mister. This laziness on my part wouldn’t pay off until years later, when our buddy, Seth, explained the rules of determining your imaginary porn name. (Take the name of your first pet and then the name of the first road or street you lived on and that’s your porn name.) My result was the (I think) enviable "Mister Blackjack." My partner, Tim, however, didn’t fare as well. The next time you see him, feel free to address him as "Lady Sawmill."

    I’ve been through quite a few pets in my forty-four years; horses, rabbits, canaries, tropical fish, dogs, cats…the list goes on and on. But what is it in a human that compels us to seek out the companionship of animals? As children, we are "given" pets to teach us to care for other creatures but also to teach us responsibility. It is a well-documented fact that animals are good stress-relievers and that the presence of an animal can help facilitate healing in cases of illness.

    For many of us, particularly those of us in the gay community, pets become the children that we would not have otherwise. And, whether gay or straight and whether we have no children because of circumstance or because of choice, our pets are often treated better than most human children. We celebrate their birthdays, hang stockings for them at Christmas and provide them with health care, usually far superior to that of our own.

    Right now Tim and I are parents to a lovebird and a Balinese cat. The Lovebird, Raoul Gomez, was given by me to Tim for our tenth anniversary along with a mate, Carmen Gomez. Unfortunately, the name Lovebird doesn’t quite match up with Raoul’s character; not only did he kill Carmen, but he also tries to kill us every time we try to feed or water him and throws seeds out of his cage just to watch us clean them up. Despite all of this, Raoul has his own stocking at Christmas and we do everything that we can to make our bitter little bird happy. Our cat, Magda, is another case. She is affectionate to the point of being irritating, constantly follows me around the house and wants nothing more than to sit on my lap, whether I’m trying to read or not. In fact, she’s so talkative that we’ve nicknamed her "Lady Blah-Blah." Tim, of course, accuses me of "spoiling" her.

    "How many treats do you give her a day, anyway?" is a common question.

    "I don’t know," I reply, trying my best not to make eye contact at the risk of betraying myself. "Two?"

    "More like two hundred. Do you want her to get fat?"

    "The doctor says she’s the perfect body weight," I parry. It’s a weak defense, but it’s all I have.

    I’m fine with being the "good" dad. Besides, I know that Tim’s mostly amused.

Mostly.

    Nearly all of my friends own at least one pet and it’s funny how we share stories of our companions as if they were our children. My friend, Kris, for instance, whose beautiful face turns into a scowl at the mere mention of children, has become quite the cat collector, naming her little charges after characters from The Wire and A Streetcar Named Desire.

    I think that the most difficult part of having a pet companion is when we have to cope with their deaths. Sickness is always difficult but, if we’re lucky and get them the correct care, there’s always the possibility that their health will improve. When our best efforts are not enough, however, the results are quite traumatic. The loss of a beloved companion pet can be like losing a child or, at the very least, a member of the family. My friend, Larry, recently had to euthanize his ailing cat, Crooks, and I know from personal experience what he’s going through.

    A few years ago, Tim and I were forced to euthanize our sweet little, seventeen year old Dachshund, Willi. Although there was some comfort in being with him until the end, the pain of losing him is still with me seven years later. In fact, Willi is the reason Tim and I have never gotten another dog, not because of the pain but because, early on, "replacing" him felt like too much of a betrayal.

    Mark Twain wrote to a friend in 1899, "The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's."

    These days, aside from caring for Magda and Raoul, Tim and I care for the wild creatures who wander into our yard. Kitchen scraps are put out for the squirrels, possums and rabbits and bird seed is given to the various birds and field mice. We have been known to rescue the occasional nestling, when necessary.

    I recently completed work on an (as of yet) unpublished novel, set in the Berlin zoo during the Second World War. In the course of doing research for the book I was appalled by what I found, namely that zoo animals in war zones continue to suffer to this day. Not only are zoos bombed but animals are shot in their cages and slowly starved to death. As a result, I have started an online petition in the hope of changing the way zoo animals are treated in time of war. (If interested in signing, please visit www.ipetitions.com/petition/zooanimalsinwarzones.)

    Mohandas Gandhi wrote "The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."