Finding my place

It had been way too long since I last went out dancing - almost a year, if I recall correctly. So when my friend M, who is assistant director for the play I'm in, invited me out after rehearsal tonight, I decided to go. I almost didn't, since I'm fighting a cold and have to work tomorrow, but the offer was tempting enough that I grabbed the first appropriate clothes I could find (black velvet hip-hugger jeans that, after coming out of the wash, are almost too tight to wear and a velvet-and-brocade top that's more empty space than fabric, but swirls beautifully when I spin) and tagged along. Gods, I'm so glad I did...

I've been spending most of my time lately in other people's areas of expertise. During the day, at work, I'm surrounded by half a dozen other vets with many years more experience, and heaps more confidence and skill. My circle of friends is largely made up of musicians, all of whom are more talented than I, and at rehearsal I'm in the middle of a group of actors who are far more experienced, trained, and comfortable than I can imagine being. I know I'm a good doctor and a decent actor, and I've been told I'm a passable singer, but that doesn't change the fact that in all those areas I'm at the bottom of the ladder. I don't stand out. Usually it doesn't matter, but every once in a while it's nice to shine.

Tonight, within two beats of wading into the ocean of velvet and vinyl, I knew I was home. This is *my* place, my time. The music speaks to me, my heart pounding with the beat, my blood flowing in time, my body moving in ways that my conscious mind can't control - hips swinging, arms twining, shoulder swaying... I'm peripherally aware of the other dancers, enough to keep from bumping into them and to appreciate the patterns we make, sometimes working with them, weaving in and out of each other's dances. Sometimes I have half an eye on them, watching their moves and the way they dance, realizing that I could dance rings around them if I wanted to.... I can feel the eyes on me, too, and it's intoxicating in a way. I'm dancing for myself, no worries, no thought, no competition, but it feels good to know that, if it mattered, I'm being noticed.

Of course, it ended far too soon. I left after just a couple of hours, knowing that if I allowed myself to stay until the floor was full and the DJ was in his prime, I'd never escape before last call. And now I reek of cigarrette smoke, my eyes and throat are burning, and my calves will protest tomorrow, and it was utterly worth it. I can't wait to go again in two weeks... completely aside from the ego-boost, it feels good to move, to let my mind go and my body take over.....

Really Not Happy

'Let's get a puppy for Christmas!'

'It was so cute, I just had to take it home.'

'But all the dalmations on tv are so well behaved...'

'I already spent $500 on the dog, I can't afford any more for veterinary care.'

Pets make really freaking lousy gifts. Pets are not good impulse buys. Pets are not easy to take care of. Pet stores and puppy mills are not good places to find a puppy. If you really must spend that much money on a holiday gift, buy $500 worth of stuffed animals. Trust me, you'll be happier in the long run.

I must have seen at least half a dozen new puppies today, all of them Christmas impulse-buys, and none of them healthy. Every single goddamn one of them was cryptorchid (an *inherited* problem that can be prevented by NOT BREEDING THE DAMN DOGS THAT CARRY THE PROBLEM), most of them were crawling with fleas and churning with parasites, malnourished, dehydrated, and carrying at least one other congenital disease.

And the owners blink at me with vacant eyes like TV screens, unable to parse the concept that little FooFoo, who just cost them so much money, is anything less than perfect. Never mind that the thing is so weak it can't stand - maybe it's just tired from the trip? Never mind that FooFoo is *SEIZURING,* maybe that's normal for this breed? Oh, and the breeder told me this is a special breed that doesn't need vaccines.

I know that there are good breeders out there, but frankly, they're few and far between. And I know that there are responsible, well-educated owners out there, but there are also a lot of impulse-buyers who have no idea of what they're getting into. Buying a pet is not like buying a stuffed animal that can kiss and cuddle you and provide you with infinite love at no cost. It takes a lot of work and effort on the part of the person adopting an animal, and a lot of money, especially in the first year. It's wonderful, and rewarding, and miraculous, but it's not for everyone. If you can't afford to feed and vaccinate and spay/neuter your pet, and treat it for whatever puppy-illnesses arise, you shouldn't have it. Same if you can't find the time to train it, housebreak it, play with it, and give it the attention and affection it needs. I know this probably sounds cruel, and that people will protest that the poor need puppy-kisses too, but it's also cruel to the pet to condemn it to a life of poor health, malnutrition, and potential suffering because someone was too selfish to consider the animal's health before adopting it. If you want puppy-love but can't afford your own pet, volunteer as a handler at a shelter. Those animals need love desperately, and you'd be doing a good deed.

I wish there was a legal way for me to strike out at the breeders selling these dogs - it's cruel, it's unhealthy, it's terrible in a thousand ways. But most of them are small enough that they're not covered by the Animal Welfare Act. And I wish there were a way that I could get through to people that animals do not make good gifts, and that they should be prepared before adopting a pet. I've tried to convince my boss that pre-purchase couseling would be a good service to offer, but she's not willing to let me try it. So I wind up spending my days explaining to people that they've been lied to, and that the new puppy they took home yesterday may not survive until Christmas, and watching things that should be bouncing, energetic balls of fluff puke up puddles of worms on my sneakers, then roll in it because they're too weak to stand up or move away.

I love the holiday season, but I can see myself coming to hate it all too easily if I'm not careful...