I have three cats, two dogs, a bird, and a turtle. Please do not drop any more animals off at my house. As a writer, I engage in people and animal watching on a regular basis. Yesterday, and mid migraine, while watching my family interact with the four legged, furry animals it dawned on me that people are nothing more than animal relocation technicians. Now now, just think about this for a moment . . .
The cat is walking into the kitchen to grab some grub, along comes its owner and picks up the feline and carries it to the couch. After tolerating a few bouts of petting, the cat again starts for its dish. Midway there another human picks up the cat and takes it outside to bask in the sun. Moments later the starving, yet warm, animal gets to its bowl, this time it is plucked up by another person who proceeds to pet its head and make gushy baby sounds and patronize the cat as such, “whose a good kitty? Whose a good kitty? You’re a good kitty.” After several efforts to eat, the animal finally gets its food.
What occurred there? Three episodes of animal relocation, and because this was done at the hand of a person, that makes said person an animal relocation technician. Fell free to add that to future employment resumes. Your welcome 🙂
Now, I don’t know about you, but if I was an animal in constant location flux I would need some serious therapy. Imagine it: you’re just strolling along and there happens a slow grumbling in your tummy. In-N-Out sounds good, you think to yourself. So as you make way to fill the hunger void, some bigger being picks you up and drops you some place on the other end of town for their personal pleasure. Once that is done, you start back to your original destination, but in the drive thru another huge creature plucks you up and takes you clear across the county to bask in the warmth of the sun. Famished, and fit to kill, you again start for your food when out of nowhere a third celestial being coddles you to its chest and makes with babble talk and kisses your nose. Finally, you are free to find your food–now bitter and starving.
Transcripts: My cats therapy session #3 01/01/2014 Under the Willow Tree
Chino (golden Tortie, short-haired, feline): I don’t know, man. Its like everywhere I go somebody just plucks me up off the ground. Sometimes mid-leap. [sucks on some catnip] It’s freaky, man. Just freaky. Like I have places to be, butts to sniff, dirt to roll around in, naps. Oh man, the naps. I have an agenda, you know. Humans aren’t the only ones with dockets. I have a full day too. Then I’m walking to my perch under the sun and BAM-O! Next thing I know these animal relocation technicians (ART) are taking me clear across the yard to wave goodbye as the big ART is driving away. My paws don’t bend that way. [sobs] My paws don’t bend that way. My naps, my meals, their all interrupted and I find myself in places I didn’t need to be. Where the meow am I? Hungry. Sleepy. Lost. BAM-O, I’m in the bedroom. BAM-O, I’m by the pool. I don’t even like water. [full-blown sobs]. I don’t even like water.
So the next time you think to relocate your animal ask yourself this: What would my pet do?
Tania L Ramos, RN and Author on the Animal Relocation Technician Protection Program