writer: Dr. Vern
There's a deep, dark secret that I can no longer hide. Several years ago, I traded a cat for a Jeep. Why the shame? That sounds like a fantastic deal, doesn't it? Did I hand over a snarling burlap bag in exchange for the Jeep's title and keys? Before you start rounding up neighborhood strays, let me explain. My wife wanted another cat just as I came across a great deal on yet another project Jeep. The "trade" was that my wife agreed to the Jeep if she could get the cat. Now you know my shameful secret.
It's difficult to pinpoint exactly why I'm not a big fan of cats. I'm not allergic to them, although I once had a reaction that may have been cat-related. (Note to self: Avoid any Chinese restaurant if the all-you-can-eat buffet costs less than a dollar.) I'm just more of a dog person, and I don't mean in any culinary sense. Nor does being a dog person imply some sort of failed genetic experiment that left me with a tail and the tendency to hang my head out the window while driving.
Consider the value of a dog for guard duty in an old Jeep. Because old Jeeps are so easy to hotwire, parking in a public location is an invitation for theft. A Jeep owner can try all sorts of tactics, such as installing a hidden kill switch, padlocking the steering wheel, or simply owning a Jeep so ugly that no self-respecting thief would touch it. No deterrent approaches the effectiveness of a dog sitting in the driver's seat. Neither of our dogs is even remotely intimidating and might flee in panic if a thief was armed with balloons or a vacuum cleaner, yet they have faithfully stood watch whenever asked.
Protecting the Jeep is something of a moot point, however. To avoid leaving the Jeep unattended, we'll usually drive something else around town. Our dogs, as much as they love riding in any vehicle, understand this. They've learned that a ride in the family car typically entails a boring wait in some parking lot. The grocery store means enough time for a long nap, while the Post Office is only good for a brief snooze. The dogs even know that anytime the ski mask comes out of the glove compartment, I'll be back in a flash no matter where we've parked. The dogs are a bit more partial to riding in the pickup because it goes to places like the dump. From the canine perspective, there are all sorts of wonderful smells and the nice lady at the gate keeps a jar full of dog treats. However, the dogs reserve their utmost enthusiasm for the Jeep. They know it is never used for visits to the vet but, instead, sees fun duty like camping trips. As an added bonus, it is OK to mark territory when out in the boonies on these trips. I think the dogs appreciate this, too.
The dogs enjoy riding in the Jeep so much that it just doesn't feel right without them. Junior dog is small enough that he can stay out of the way on somebody's lap. Senior dog, reveling in her status as ruler of all household pets, has claimed the floor above the muffler because it warms her old bones. Every few minutes as we drive along, a wet nose nudging my elbow is a reminder that some floppy ears need to be scratched. Such behavior is a good example of how dogs have mastered non-verbal communication and made themselves so endearing. Dogs are also adept at conversing with just their eyes, even if only to say, "Don't look on the linoleum by the back door."
By the way, there are many similarities about people's feelings toward dogs and Jeeps. Expect to hear conflicting opinions about what constitutes the ideal dog or Jeep. At some point, you have to tune out the noise and go with what seems right for you. Just like our Jeep would never win any sort of competition, our dogs will never snag any trophies, but they're fine with me. Senior dog, for example, is aging much too quickly and can't jump into the Jeep by herself anymore. If I ever found a genie in a bottle, I'd wish that a dog and master could live out their years together. In the meantime, I can only hope that somebody will lift me into the Jeep and take me for rides when I'm in the same situation. I'll probably pass on getting my ears scratched, though. -- Dr. Vern