In the popular imagination, writers often have rock’n’roll lifestyles. Me? Not so much. In fact, I have the world’s most mundane weekday routine. Every morning, about 8.25, I wipe congealed oatmeal off my kid’s face and put her in a stroller. Then I put a lead on my dog (a mutt called Rascal) and walk to daycare with them. Then I walk back home with an empty stroller and my dog.
This extremely ordinary routine – or at least the second half of it – seems to puzzle people. Surprisingly often, I have had strangers stop me in the street and ask if the empty stroller is for my dog. “No, it’s for my small child, whom I just dropped at daycare,” I will explain. They will nod along, but look as if they don’t quite believe me. “Oh,” they might say. “I thought it was for the dog.”
“There’s a sippy cup of milk sitting in the cup holder!” I said on one occasion, after a random woman flagged me down to ask about the situation. “I don’t give my dog milk out of a Daniel Tiger branded cup! I don’t give my dog milk at all!” The woman looked at my dog, who was wearing a nicer jacket than the ratty one I had on, then looked at me, then looked at my dog, then said: “Well, I did think that was strange …” The unspoken subtext? But I could definitely see you doing it.
If this sort of thing had happened only once, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But it has now happened more times than I can count and it’s making me paranoid. Either there is something weird going on with the pedestrians of Philadelphia or there is something going on with me. Clearly, I give off “lady who puts her dog in a stroller and quite possibly feeds it milk from a sippy cup” vibes. Clearly, I look like a crazy dog lady.
To be fair, that isn’t an inaccurate assessment. I may not wheel little Rascal around in a state-of-the-art pet stroller, but I do take him everywhere I go. Every night, I make his bed (ie smooth out the old cashmere sweater he sleeps on) and put a dentist-approved enzymatic dog chew on his pillow like I am a housekeeper performing the turn-down service at an exclusive canine hotel. (The Paw Seasons?)
But then again, I am not the only one who gets a little extra when it comes to their pet, am I? Look around you: crazy dog people are everywhere. I see dogs in the supermarket; dogs in elaborate outfits; dog room-service menus at hotels; dog spas; doggie daycares; boutiques selling dog ice-cream; private jet companies for people who want to fly with their pets. And, yes, I see a lot of dogs in strollers.
With fertility rates going down across much of the world and pet ownership going up, the same sort of pricey paraphernalia that is targeted at new parents is increasingly being targeted at dog mums and dads. Indeed, sales of pet strollers in South Korea exceeded baby stroller sales last year, according to Gmarket, an e-commerce platform.
It’s becoming more and more difficult to afford children. Dogs are expensive, but childcare in the US (and the UK) is through the roof. I know this is hardly a new observation, but the fact that the US is so hostile to parents, and has made it so difficult to afford a family (despite being a country that, in numerous states, is trying to force women to give birth), never fails to enrage me. I would love a litter of children, but it’s not financially feasible. As it is, my daughter will have to make do with a canine big brother.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to cook Rascal his organic chicken supper.
• This article appeared originally in Flaming Hydra
• Arwa Mahdawi is a Guardian columnist
