Driving to campus two Fridays ago, I noticed an unusual roadkill specimen-Canis familiaris dachshundis. Now, most people-at least most normal people-typically can’t, don’t or simply won’t identify genus, species and variety of road kill while zipping by (at speed limit of course) on their way to work. But it’s okay-I’m a biologist.
A road kill dachshund is not something you see every day or even twice in a lifetime because these dogs are shorter than the road clearance of most domestic and foreign motor vehicles, even Chevy corvettes, Cooper minis and those diesel machines with steel rollers that flatten freshly laid asphalt.
Seeing this specimen made me unusually sad, however. Seeing traditional southeastern Louisiana roadkill typically doesn’t make a driver sad, but seeing a dachshund will depress anyone: because unlike many nutria, alligators and multi-colored, variegated cats or dogs, a road kill dachshund is undeniably someone’s pet.
Why undeniably a pet? Because there are no wild dachshunds. Originally bred in the 1600s in Germany to chase badgers out of their holes, the breed is much too short-statured to mate with other canine varieties, so there are no dachshund-mongrels. Besides, I simply cannot imagine this to have been an escapee of a herd of little, brown, cylindrical dogs introduced to the southern Louisiana marshes and trained to dive down mud towers and harvest crawfish.
In addition to sadness, the corpse made me think of Bob Barker.
After 35 years at the helm, Bob would host his final episode of “The Price is Right” later that morning. You know the “The Price is Right” as that CBS game show you skip 3M and 3T classes to watch-the show with the wonderfully appealing backdrops and props, and, in addition to these tightly-clad hostesses, many prizes for contestants as well.
A longtime animal rights advocate, Bob was the television personality that suddenly went totally gray after realizing that hair dyes were tested on dogs before being tested at his favorite salon. He would end each show with the phrase, “Help control the pet population. Have your pet spayed or neutered,” which enlightened a whole generation of housewives and led to a nationwide surge in vasectomies.
So after 50 years on television, many bottles of dachshund-color hair dye, 19 Emmy Awards, and one sexual harassment lawsuit from a hostess who apparently thought the out-of-court settlement price was right, Bob called it a daytime, two Fridays ago, on June 15.
But it’s not just that he was a pet lover or animal rights advocate, and it’s not because Adam Sandler punched him out like roadkill in the movie “Happy Gilmore,” but it’s because I suddenly remembered as a kid seeing an episode of Bob’s first television show, “Truth or Consequences,” on which he brought his pet dachshunds to the studio and showed them on television.
What led this particular little brown specimen to attempt to cross Louisiana Highway One is not known. Maybe he took Bob’s advice and wanted to control the pet population. Or maybe he was lured by that ominous, pitchforked voice from the evil labyrinths below the crawfish towers, surrounded by voluptuous dachshunds tightly clad in red bathing suits or evening gowns and modeling the latest doggie showcases, exclaiming “Come on Down!”
But I’m speculating. It’s what most people-at least most normal people-typically can’t, don’t or simply won’t do following emotional trauma.
