Our small and abused little Chihuahua, ironically named Lassie, is in heat. Although I’ve never really taken her for a looker, wherever she’s gone lately, a group of three or four dogs has followed her, sniffing her here, licking her there, lipstick extended, attempting to spend a few minutes (is that how long dogs take?) in doggie-heaven.
Perhaps it’s because she’s only two and just not ready for motherhood; maybe it’s that the dogs haven’t shown that they’re father material; it could be that the shear size of two of her suitors, a Great Bernard at least six times bigger and a sweet, black mutt, only 4 times bigger, makes her shudder at how such a union might work. For whatever the reason, Lassie wants nothing to do with anyone in her eclectic group of suitors: she barks for hours on end in fear, runs as fast as her little legs will carry her, attempting to hide from then, and, perhaps saddest of all, appeals to her human owners for protection.
She should know better. It is no surprise that the same people who hit her and kick her (in their defense, not too hard, but hard enough), have ignored our little dog’s search for safety. Instead, titling the somewhat comic escapades as Lassie’s Search for a Husband, they have imported a skinny Chihuahua from another farm to get the deed done, and, whenever they can, lock the two “amantes,” or “lovers,” in a small shed to facilitate the completion of the dirty deed. After about twenty minutes, Lassie’s scratching of the wooden door and her high-pitched barking subside, and we are only left to speculate.
“Why are you doing this to Lassie?” I ask my colleagues. “It’s seems pretty obvious that she’s not interested. Why not just let her be?”
“Do you know how much Chihuahua pups sell for?” They ask me excitedly and without pause. “Almost 4,000 pesos,” or a little over $100. “The rich people love these dogs.”
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The real justification, the assumption underlying all of the other arguments, is that we treat animals like they were unfeeling, unthinking, inanimate objects because we can. Because they are smaller, weaker, less expressive, or less powerful than us. Because there’s no one whom they can complain to, the consequences few and far between for their abuse.
This same reasoning—that we can treat other beings that might not be as smart, as evolved, as expressive—when applied to people holds no water. It is cruel, unusual, inhumane, and completely unjustifiable. Such ratiocination helped justify the infamous abuses at Abu Ghirab (to the abusers), where American servicemen and women treated suspected terrorists as if the language and cultural barrier converted the prisoners into lesser beings. In the DR, much less blatant but all the more pervasive, husbands, who go out dancing and drinking whenever they please, play baseball and dominoes at all hours of the day, apply the same principle to their wives, whom stay at home doing laundry and take care of the children, because men, the reasoning goes, are more fit for most things than women; sexual abuse is supposedly rampant here, as one generation feasts on the next in actions which they know lack reprisal; fathers take switches to their children for minor infractions; kids regularly mock Christian, the handsome, strong, and smart deaf-mute who lives here, who can’t hear when people call him names and couldn’t respond even if he did. What all of these examples have in common is that people feel like they can take advantage of others because the victims have no recourse. No matter the context, no matter the victim, no one should remain silent. On the contrary, we have a responsibility to say something and to act against those who can’t speak up for themselves.
The way I see it, then, being a vegetarian is about many things. In addition to environmental and health reasons, which I will cover later in the week, it’s about standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Some may try to paint such a position as extreme, that we should abuse animals, only less. Maybe I’m missing something, but whether it’s 9 times a week or 4, I just can’t remain silent. But maybe you can.
*An update: There’s no question about what went down in the shed: Lassie and spouse had a good time. I’ll update you on her condition as the year progresses. Is anybody interested in buying a pure-bread Chihuahua? Know anyone who is? I can get you a good deal!