Who Tells Our Doggies When We Die?
I was watching 24 the other day. I had taped it, and I just got around to watching, and it's the one where Erin Driscoll's daughter has just "killed herself" in the CTU medical area. (I'm not buying it - I think someone did her in. It's too convenient!)
So, Erin is like, okay, I guess I will go home, when the DOD guy tells her she should. (I'm not sure she got that she's totally out on her ass, but either way. She's going home.) And she mentions that she needs to check on the dog.
The dog! The poor dog! What will the dog be thinking? The last thing the dog knew, the daughter was getting hauled away to CTU, in kind of a raving-freaked out way. What will the dog think, when she NEVER, EVER comes back? The poor dog won't figure out that she's dead! (Oh, yeah, right, fictional dog. Fictional dogs don't care.)
Discussion of funeral arrangements, a wake, large outpourings of sympathy food, oversized photos of the dead girl, and lots of flowers would clue US in, if we were living in the Driscoll house. But not the dog! Dogs just don't get it, because they're very stupid. They're not even careful or tactful about what they say after someone's died. They just go along begging at the table, pooping on the lawn, all of it, without regards to absent family members. Man, dogs are really insensitive.
But they might not be, if someone would have the consideration to tell them their loved ones have died. Like, take them to the funeral home or to the hospital. I can't imagine anyone having a problem with that, can you?
In any event... or, rather, in the event of MY death, which should never happen because I plan to not die, please inform my kitties that I am dead. Show them my body so they get it. Really. It's the least we can do.
This request applies to my Graceful Readers that actually know me, my home address, and know whether I'm dead or not. If you don't know me to talk on the phone, please don't worry that I'll die and you need to get a plane out here.
Morbidly yours, annekat.
So, Erin is like, okay, I guess I will go home, when the DOD guy tells her she should. (I'm not sure she got that she's totally out on her ass, but either way. She's going home.) And she mentions that she needs to check on the dog.
The dog! The poor dog! What will the dog be thinking? The last thing the dog knew, the daughter was getting hauled away to CTU, in kind of a raving-freaked out way. What will the dog think, when she NEVER, EVER comes back? The poor dog won't figure out that she's dead! (Oh, yeah, right, fictional dog. Fictional dogs don't care.)
Discussion of funeral arrangements, a wake, large outpourings of sympathy food, oversized photos of the dead girl, and lots of flowers would clue US in, if we were living in the Driscoll house. But not the dog! Dogs just don't get it, because they're very stupid. They're not even careful or tactful about what they say after someone's died. They just go along begging at the table, pooping on the lawn, all of it, without regards to absent family members. Man, dogs are really insensitive.
But they might not be, if someone would have the consideration to tell them their loved ones have died. Like, take them to the funeral home or to the hospital. I can't imagine anyone having a problem with that, can you?
In any event... or, rather, in the event of MY death, which should never happen because I plan to not die, please inform my kitties that I am dead. Show them my body so they get it. Really. It's the least we can do.
This request applies to my Graceful Readers that actually know me, my home address, and know whether I'm dead or not. If you don't know me to talk on the phone, please don't worry that I'll die and you need to get a plane out here.
Morbidly yours, annekat.
posted by annekat at
3:13 AM
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