Once upon a time, going places in my car was a relatively simple affair.
I got in, put on my seatbelt, fired up the engine, and left. But now I have children, and that means that using the car requires the strength of a professional wrestler, the rigging knowledge of a parachutist, and the patience of the Dalai Lama. Getting ready to go somewhere takes a lot more time and tends to erode one’s sanity. One’s remaining sanity, I should say.
There’s a very good reason for all these buckles and belts and fasteners, and it’s that children are precious, and should be protected from harm. It’s all part of that same ethos where you’re supposed to cherish your offspring, and be patient with them, and not sell them off to passing circuses. As an aside, the fact that I still have my children says a lot less about my ability to maintain said patience, and a lot more about the decline of the travelling circus industry in the modern age.
As usual, I digress, because I’m not here to talk about children at all. What I’m here to discuss are the so-called “fur babies” that many people on the North Shore cherish and love as much or maybe more than their own children. Dogs.
While it seems to be the unofficial policy of this newspaper to have at least two headlines talking about dog-related municipal bylaws per week, I would like to start by pointing out that my inspiration for this week’s column didn’t come from some editorial directive. Instead, it came during the school drop-off when, after untangling my brood from their car seats to the accompanying sounds of“NoNoNoNoICANDOITMYSELFWAAAH,” I walked them past a parked Nissan which had an absolutely enormous labradoodle sitting in the front seat.
Let me first say that I am absolutely a dog person. I had dogs for nearly every single moment of my childhood, and I love them. I’m not so fond of those little yappy dogs that look like somebody cut the end off a mop and then tied a pink bow to it, but to each their own. I do not have a dog at present because, as mentioned, I already have two children and I simply can’t handle having to feed yet another yowling beast. Besides which, I’m teaching the younger one to fetch, so it’s basically the same thing.
For the most part, dog owners on the North Shore are relatively conscientious people, although some have a relatively lax approach to leash laws, and there are those few bad apples who apparently think that poop bags are to be left in the woods as if by the Easter Bunny. However, it would seem to be the exception rather than the rule that people secure their dogs properly in the car.
Take this glandular labradoodle for example. Being part poodle has given it long legs, and being part Labrador has given it considerable mass. It must be a 60 pound dog or more.
Now, think about what happens when you get into a crash with 60 pounds of unrestrained labradoodle flapping around the cabin. Obviously, there would be some wear and tear on the animal itself, and that is of course sad, and Sarah McLachlan will probably show up and start singing “in the arms of the angel.”
What is perhaps more troubling is what will happen to you if the equivalent of a sack of cement – in dog form – goes flying around your car’s interior. It would be, in the words of my eldest daughter’s favourite phrase, an unmitigated disaster.
And yet people seem perfectly happy to just throw a blanket on the backseat and hope for the best. It’s even worse when you see someone driving along with a small dog on their lap. Do you not recognize the need to use both hands when you’re driving? Do you not understand that a bump hard enough to make the airbag go off will result in you having a Pekingese permanently lodged in your peritoneum?
The best solution is a well-secured dog crate in the back of an SUV, but there are other options as well. At a minimum, a proper dog gate in the back of your hatchback will ensure that your dog stays in the trunk, and doesn’t come hurtling over your shoulder like a furry cannonball. If you’ve only got a sedan or similar, there are restraint devices that work a bit like seatbelts. The best seems to be the Sleepypod Clickit Utility.
Any of these options will probably make taking the dog for a drive a bit more of a pain. Your dog may not love being restrained in the car, and will yearn for the days it could stick its head out the window and smell all those interesting smells.
But on the other hand, owning a dog comes with all sorts of responsibilities to go with the joy of being able to blame your farts on an animal. As with parenting, it’d be a lot easier to just do things the easy way. But it wouldn’t be right.
