I saw a young man and
young woman walking a couple of dogs. And the dogs looked like they could be
siblings because they were both large and hound-like and they were a similar color.
And both dogs were missing their front right leg.
I wondered if they were
some weird new breed of dog that only has three legs. And then I wondered if
the young man and woman got the dogs from some weird niche dog rescue group
that only deals in three-legged dogs.
Then I felt a little
ashamed because I caught myself staring at the crippled dogs, like people
sometimes stare at me. But the
dogs didn’t care or even notice that I was staring at them and that made me feel
a strong bond of cripple kinship with them.
They were out there going about their business, bound and determined. One
of them had a ragdoll toy clinched firmly in its teeth. They hopped along with
a steady, confident stride.
These crippled dogs were an
inspiration, I thought. They were cripple role models. Human cripples could
learn a lot from these dogs. Because these dogs didn’t give a shit about what
anyone thinks about them being crippled. When humans become crippled, they
often get hung up on silly stuff like body image. They’re ashamed to look
crippled, so they don’t go out in public because they’re afraid somebody might
stare at them, especially if they use a wheelchair or something conspicuous
like that.
But dogs don’t care about
stuff like body image. They’ve got no time to worry about such a trifle.
They’ve got places to go and things to do. There are snowbanks to pee on, insolent
squirrels that need to be terrorized.
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