You’ve seen people driving with their little dogs on their laps. Sometimes the dog has its little paws on the window, ears flapping in the wind; sometimes the pup’s staring straight ahead looking as if it would rather be driving the car. When I see this, I’d rather it was the dog that was driving, because at least the biggest brain would be in control of the car.
I’ve warned knuckleheads that if the airbag is deployed while Fido is sharing the driver’s seat with them, there will forever be the indention of a dog about the head and chest of the survivor. I don’t think I’ve convinced anyone of the gravity of what could come of this bad behavior and I’m sad to say, in a huge stroke of hypocrisy, I’ve resorted to similar behavior.
My dilemma was how to get Princess Piggy Poo from destination A to destination B. Her cage was too big for the inside of my car, but it fit in the trunk. I could have slammed her in there too, but it just didn’t seem right. You put bad guys and dead bodies in trunks, not sweet Piggy Poos.
I guess I could have run to the pet store to buy a carrier but I don’t anticipate Princess Piggy Poo logging many miles so I did the next best thing and put her in my pocket. We were off. Each tenth of a mile I chastised myself for doing something so careless, so dangerous and so idiotic. I told myself to be careful and look ahead to anticipate any dangers. I reminded myself of every collision I had been in and how there was no way to anticipate sliding into a car that stopped suddenly or being t-boned by a drunk driver. I told myself that I deserved whatever bad thing happened for being so dogmatic and doing what I knew was wrong.
It was such a relief to safely get where we needed to go. It’s the same feeling when you get away with texting or talking on the cell phone behind the wheel or exceeding the speed limit. I was lucky that time. I still feel strongly against driving with a pet in your lap or pocket, although it shames me to admit that I can’t truthfully promise I’ll never do it again.