LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Gay 'n Gray: Dog Pee |
by John Siegfried |
I'm not a veterinary psychologist, but I've watched a lot of dogs roam the neighborhood lifting their leg here, lifting their leg there, with nary a tree nor fireplug in sight. Sometimes they do it so frequently that I think they have prostate problems or suffer from "irritable bladder," as the TV commercials coyly put it. But then a veterinarian friend explained over a couple of beers that this is simply the way male dogs mark their territory so that other dogs know who's the boss on this turf, the "king of the hill." Apparently cats and other mammals have variations on the same theme, and humans are no exception. There seems to be a universal need to mark our turf, but for humans it's not called "urination," it's called "renovation." I've owned eight homes, apartments, condos, domiciles of one sort or another so far in my lifetime. And I'm old enough to hope that there are no more. But in every case, shortly after I moved in, and sometimes before I moved in, the plans for renovations started. The proposed changes have varied from the full-scale addition of rooms, to shifting walls, eliminating hallways, and adding wall-to-wall mirrors that make a small space appear larger than it is. To this point I've resisted mirrors on the ceiling because of cost. There's no lack of interest. Usually halfway into my latest renovation project I wonder why I ever started, forgetting that I asked the same question on the last project. When the renovations are complete, the painting begins, the floors get redone, and then comes the trip to Creative Concepts or J. Conn Scott for redecorating. In reality, I'm more likely to end up at the Mill Outlet, or Home Depot, or even betterat a consignment gallery. But I can dream of going first class, can't I? Hopefully, like Jehovah in the book of Genesis, at some point I can sit down and behold that my creation is good. My experience, however, is that by the time renovations are completed my only emotion is relief that it's over and bankruptcy has been escaped, yet again. I have yet to break out champagne at the completion of a renovation project. In fact, at the completion of the project, I usually realize that the place really wasn't bad before the renovations started. So why did I endure all the upset and spend the money? Well, I'm convinced that the "renovation gene" of gays and straights alike is directly linked to the "peeing gene" of the dog, or the "trumpeting gene" of the elephant. It's our way of marking our territory or of making new territory ours. There may not be a lot of scientific data to support that conclusion, but there's plenty of observational data and experience in the gay community that says, "Yes." When the renovation project is complete and the dust is finally vacuumed (if it ever gets vacuumed) there definitely is the feeling of, "Now it's really mine." Owners of new homes get the same high when the keys are turned over. Then they can see whether all they've dreamed and planned really worked out. But whether new or renovation, the process is endless and when the inside is finished, the outside is calling. It's advertised as home improvement, landscaping, water gardening (that's different from water sports), lighting, deckingand the list of terms and money grabbers is endless. There's always more that needs to be done. I'm never sure, however, whether it's what "needs" to be done or it's just my addiction to chintz. Even I recognize that chintz draping the deck railings is a bit of overkill. The endless surge to renovate and improve may be a tribute to the concept that my dreams exceed my grasp, but then again it might just be dog pee. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 12, No. 12, August 23, 2002 |