Momma instincts

Today, I've been reminded of the handful of mothers I know who swoop in to save their children before emotional or physical damage is done. Or even a distant possibility of harm, for that matter. In fact, on my flight to Cincinnati Monday, there was a child squalling and rolling like a rabid wildcat in front of the gate. And I couldn't help but to turn my head in annoyance and grit my teeth with the other 60 or so people waiting to board who were lucky enough to witness this poor excuse for a human being whimper and growl. My dog behaves better for goodness sake! Beside her on the ground knelt her mother, mercifully stroking, appeasing, negotiating a plan for peace with the little girl. Her grace was admirable, her tolerance, though, so beyond my understanding that I couldn't respect it. And I thought to myself, as I have many times before, "Someone please do me a favor and kill me if I ever become that mother."

Well, I have some bad news. I am that mother.

To bring you up-to-speed, yesterday I came across a development that was so vulgar, so disturbing, so immoral, so disheartening and betraying, that I was almost convinced I should toss this whole blog thing out the window and keep my petty dog thoughts to myself. It was the creation of my brother: a Facebook page titled, "I like to Kick Linus club."

As self-deprecating as it was, I had to join the group briefly to investigate. My heart sank when I saw the brutal truth: this blog was all about making a mockery of my baby. The blog described all of Linus' less desirable attributes (I've spared you thus far, perhaps it's time we address some of these), including his bad gas, goofy attire and other less than kosher "eating" habits. It was an obvious ploy to make me feel insecure about my blog, which could easily be construed as cheesy, obsessive or a hobby for someone who "has way too much time on their hands." Granted, maybe I do. There was even a building plot to form "National Kick Linus Day." The straw broke the camel's back when I realized this page had more fans than our newly launched blog page.

Who do these kids think they are? I thought, noticing many flirtatious female (and, oddly, male) posts directed toward my brother on this page. They don't understand me or my dog. Most have never even met my dog, and they are pledging to kick away, or in some circumstances, "punt." And why, after knighting my brother "Uncle Noah" and encouraging a special bond between he and Linus, would he embarrass us in this way?

I approached Noah as he sat at the counter musing at the latest Linus abuse posts, he was baffled I didn't join in the hilarity of it all. Rather than throw a fit, I thought it best to tackle this in a diplomatic way.

"Hi Noah," I said.

"Hi, E."

"I saw that Facebook group."

Pause.

"I don't think it's very nice."

He doesn't turn his face from the screen. 

"It's awesome."

I went to bed discouraged last night, defeated without another attempt to disband the group. I didn't have the patience to throw a fit or the desire to ruffle my little brother's feathers. I tossed and turned and then I resolved to do something that pained me... I had to destroy our fan page.
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So I am telling the exact story told above to a group of co-workers at lunch this afternoon. I am describing the despicable content and the unbridled empty threats that dance down the page of Noah's club. I am making a case for turning the group in to the Facebook authorities on counts of "hate speech." And in the middle of my theatrics, I notice everyone is smirking. Then the truth came out.

"It actually is kinda funny," Debbie, a co-worker said. "I mean, don't you think Linus would laugh at it?"

I hated to admit it, but she had a point. Linus is the ultimate guy's guy. He's the type of little boy who doesn't need Momma to swoop in because he doesn't care. Snuggling is on his time. He shuns Momma's smooches and embraces when he's surrounded by his buddies. If he was a human guy, he'd probably have a beer belly and play golf all day Saturday. He'd probably be voted president of his fraternity. He'd religiously watch football on Sunday nights and make plenty of time for his "bromances."As Debbie put it, "he'd probably be the kind of guy to sit back and smoke a joint." He'd probably find fart jokes funny, collect old spaghetti Westerns and Bruce Lee films, fancy cars that make a lot of noise, pig out on beef jerky, pick on girls, and he would definitely not have a problem making fun of himself to get more attention.

So, if he's okay with it, why shouldn't I be? Is it that crazy don't-hurt-my-baby-or-I'll-slit-your-throat instinct inside me that says, "They want to kick Linus! Do something about it! Call the HSUS! Call Animal Services! Get Dr. Phil over here! No... forget Phil, call Oprah! They want to hurt him, and we have to stop it!"

No, it's not. My "Momma Instinct" is actually my "Me" instinct in disguise. It's not my baby's safety that's in jeopardy, it's my pride. As infathomable as it is, what if people really don't like my dog and actually do want to kick him? What if they think he's gross, or don't want to join his Facebook page? What if the only person who reads this blog is me?

The most important question: Why do I care?

And that's our little "Momma" lesson for today. When you break it down and tear away all the pride, a Kicking Linus club really isn't all that harmful. In the process of the organization of the Kick Linus club, Linus' feelings weren't hurt, nor was his body. The worst result was I made a bunch of people I know feel bad for thinking a practical joke was funny.

Now, I don't think joking about serious dog abuse is funny, and I'll never condone or support threats to animals that have any merit. But I also know as a dog owner I can get so caught up in enjoying Linus (and all dogs) that I categorize people who don't like dogs as much as me into a group of enemies. And for that I am sorry. As passionate dog owners, sharing the joys of your pup without pride, but with sincere humility and respect for others, is the best way to win over people to puppy love. Isolating them is the best way to make people fear or hate your dog, or even worse, yourself. And ultimately, crazy dog owners like me, we have to realize... nobody is gonna love our dogs as much as us Mommies and Daddies. And some people will just plain not like them. Let's just deal.

I am sorry Noah for stomping on your fun. Linus loves you dearly and you two are the best of buds. But always know, if any Kicking Linus club dialogue turns into action, you will see some real Momma Instinct come into play. And that won't be pretty.