The Problem with Pets: a story in 60 seconds

"Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet." --Colette

“Donut, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

But the English Bulldog didn’t utter a peep. He just stared blankly at his monogrammed food bowl, uninterested in the mound of kibble before him.

Mindy was beside herself. Over the recent weeks, her canine companion had grown increasingly distant. And she couldn’t figure out why.

“I don’t understand…” she muttered out loud. “I dress you in the absolute cutest outfits, bathe you twice a week, and feed you the most nutritious dog food money can buy…what more could you want?”

To this, Donut stood up and walked to the other side of the kitchen, where he dropped into his bed, coiled up into a knot, and faced the wall.

Mindy sighed.

She grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and began investigating the cause of this sudden change in behavior. After a few minutes of scrolling, something caught her attention: an article written by a pet psychologist...Oh, God, she thought to herself: Could Donut be anxious or, worse, depressed? In another minute, she found the number of an animal psychiatrist in the next town over and scheduled an appointment for the following afternoon.

When they arrived at the office that next day, they were greeted by a young man who turned out to be the doctor. He wore an argyle knit sweater and thin rectangular glasses that framed an easygoing expression. However, his disarming appearance did little to soften the blow when he informed Mindy that she would not be permitted to attend Donut’s session.

“But wouldn’t it be useful if I sit in?” she asked. “I mean, I am his mother after all.”

The doctor smiled sympathetically and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that would violate our code of ethics.”

Mindy couldn’t mask her disappointment but quietly accepted the rules nonetheless.

“The session will take about sixty minutes,” he said as he walked her to the door. “We’ll see you soon…”

When she picked Donut up an hour later, he was like a new dog. The whole ride home, his mouth hung open in a lasting grin, and he wagged his stubby little tail with the plucky enthusiasm of a new pup. Clearly, whatever the doctor said had worked, and Mindy couldn’t be happier.

That is until she received a knock at her front door a few hours later.

Two men in uniform stood before her.

“Mindy Kurt?” one of them asked.

“Yes?”

“We’re from Animal Care and Control. Is there a canine on the premises?”

“Yes…” The word lingered a bit too long. “What is this about?”

The two officers looked at one another. “About an hour ago, we received a call from your dog’s psychologist. There were some reports of neglect. We’re going to need to remove the animal.”

From his bed, Donut’s ears perked up. The big English Bulldog stood and yawned before performing a long, drawn-out stretch. Then, he trotted gleefully through the kitchen, knocking over his still-untouched bowl of kibble as he scooted by Mindy and out the front door.

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