With all that I like about Southern Utah, I have come to realize a couple of things that really bug me.
First is the polygamy issue. I mean, it’s a very complex topic, for sure, but from a personal standpoint I cannot understand why any man would subject himself to having more than one woman under the same roof going through the change at the same time.
Something tells me a swan dive off the Bixby Bridge south of Carmel, Calif., would be more appealing.
That brings me to a more serious note this one regarding people who let their dogs ride in the bed of a pickup truck. In the past 10 days, I have heard from two people voicing concerns about this and one was from someone with Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab where the hundreds of rescued pets include 22 pit bulls that were victims of NFL quarterback Michael Vick and his dog-fighting ring.
Knowing how our spoiled-rotten Schnauzer named Blitz rides in the cab of our pickup while being spoon-fed filet mignon (I’m still amazed he doesn’t have his own seat belt), seeing other dogs clinging to the side of a truck as the driver heads down the street like Cha Cha Muldowney in a Top Fuel dragster absolutely floors me.
So help me, I guarantee you that when I stop for gas anywhere in Southern Utah, there’s going to be at least one guy in a pickup with a dog in the bed of the truck complete with a gun rack in the rear window. And that same guy wearing a cowboy hat will strut like he’s Tom Crews walking up to receive an Oscar Award.
I mean, it almost seems like some sort of a status symbol when someone throws their dog in the back of a pickup for a ride. I guess you could say a dog in Southern Utah is almost Gucci-like and putting that same dog in the back of a pickup is about like a gang member having a pair of dice hanging from the rear view mirror.
I’m not sure of how many dogs have been injured or killed after being thrown out of the back of a truck, but I have to believe the numbers are rising.
In fact, while heading down Highway 89 the other day, I kept hearing a dog barking. But this was really interesting since the dog wasn’t even in the bed of the truck but on a platform behind the tailgate. The driver was going so fast I almost dislocated my neck trying to catch the scene of the northbound truck as I was heading south.
I wanted to make a U-turn and chase the guy down before asking some hard questions. But with the luck I have, I probably would have been busted by one of those small-town cops who sit alongside the roadway waiting for speeders to complement the coffers.
Truth-be-known, the cop undoubtedly would have been related to the driver of the pickup. I started to think this whole thing was nothing but a setup, so I adjusted the dislocated vertebrae in my spine and headed on down the road.
Even more interesting was that I was only a couple of miles from Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. That’s certainly ironic considering that the sight of a dog in the back of a pickup truck not only brings cringes to animal lovers at BFAS but is tantamount to plopping your nine month old son on the hood of your car while darting in and out of high-speed traffic on I-15.
I dunno. The scenery in Southern Utah is awesome and 99 percent of the people are wonderful. But something tells me the next Utah legislature needs a new bill introduced dealing with cowboys who throw their dogs in the back of their trucks before assuming the role of Harry Hot Rod.
Dogs deserve better, believe me.
Mike Henle is a Las Vegas-based freelance writer and the author of “Through the Darkness: One Man’s Fight to Overcome Epilepsy.” He can be contacted via email at mhenle@aol.com or through his web site www.mikehenle.com.
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