On Mammalian Automobiles

The nice thing about Sunday mornings is the fact that I not only get to sleep in, but I get to sit in bed and just think for a while before I actually get up. I'm doing that now, as a matter of fact, only now I've incorporated a computer. Lately also I've started letting my dog sleep with me which is probably the greatest idea I've ever had. She may take up too much of the bed, but my feet stay warm even after the blankets twist up and expose them to cold. How my ancestors decided that skinning animals and using the hides as blankets was better than having a mobile heat generator is beyond me.

I'm going to admit now that since taking Tonks (my dog) on as a foot warmer, I've also taken to talking to her before zonking and upon waking. I remember as a kid listening to my parents down the hall talking every night. I never could understand what they were saying as it was all very muffled, but I do remember that it was bloody annoying. To a six year old, enforcing a bedtime is oppressive. Making a racket through which that six year old can't sleep, then, is downright sadistic. At least now I understand WHY they talked. They didn't get much time to talk during the day, after all. Not when the six year old had to ask 'why' regarding everything. I asked so many nosey questions as a kid, they took to calling me 'Grandma'. They also probably couldn't help the chitchat because it's sort of in our nature to communicate. You can't really stop talking when there's something or someone there to listen to you.

Boy, does Tonks listen. She listens without interrupting, and sometimes she responds with some real wit. We were talking about evolution this morning when I woke up. The conversation started with my keen observation that her thumbs are less than useless, while mine are the reason why I am so much more advanced. Why on earth do most mammals not have the sense to start using their thumbs? Perhaps if Tonks went back in time and told her ancient ancestors to start making use of those dinky little claws, she would be here today chaining me up in the backyard, feeding me Wheat Thins, and paying the bills. I didn't tell her this of course; it's not exactly in my best interest to conspire as such against my own species.

I pointed out to her then, in consolation for her lack of opposable thumbs, that she at least had the sense to not have five toes like us. Few people know this, but I am a member of the extremely secretive Groups Against Gratuitous Appendages (GAGA). I sit on the board as the representative for Peoples Advocating Banishment of Stupid Toes (PABST). Our goal is to, via evolution, do away with toes that are not only useless, but more troublesome than anything. Pinky toes, as most women can attest to, are not only a waste, but cause much pain and suffering in the wearing of unnaturally shaped shoes.

I love me some Victorian boots. My toes disagree. Solution? Declare war on toes.

Before I get carried away promoting my agenda, I will revert back to the matter at hand. In my one sided discussion of the evolution of feet with my buddy Tonks, I was met with a rare interruption. Her interruptions are always worth it, and this one was rather novel.

"Mammals are like cars," she said. That was ALL she had to say, and I was spellbound. Note my stupor was not the result of witnessing a dog defy the barrier of communication as well as the standard to which her head (bones, muscles, etc) is engineered. No, what amazed me most was the parallel being drawn by my simple but brilliant canine companion. Mammals ARE like cars. Or, rather, cars are like mammals since they came second, but bear with me.

Or if you happen to be a Catbus, you're both mammal AND car!

DISCLAIMER: I really don't know anything about zoology or biology. I know even less about cars. I'm not interested so much in the 'what's of life as I am in the 'why's. So whatever it is I say regarding this subject is based purely on my rudimentary knowledge and observations. DON'T JUDGE MY IGNORANCE!

Let's start with imagining snow. It's easy for me right now, since it's January and there is snow outside. Granted my blinds are closed, but I know there is snow outside because I am not outside. I cannot be outside when there is snow outside. If there weren't snow outside, I would be outside. Got it? Very good.

Now snow is pretty terrible to drive in. My first snowfall in Utah happened to be a whiteout through which I had to drive home from work. I was very excited to see snow, since I had been living in California where there is none. It finally began to fall around mid morning. I looked longingly out the window, waiting for three o'clock when I would be free to go home and throw snowballs at my siblings and build a snow man and make snow angels and learn all about yellow snow and why you shouldn't eat it... and then came the hour. I got into my car, turned onto 3900 South and immediately regretted it. I was slipping and sliding all over the blasted road. I had no control whatsoever. Two doors down from work I parked the car and called my dad in tears, begging him to come get me. He told me to man up and drive; I wasn't in Kansas anymore. "I've never BEEN to Kansas!" I told him, "Besides that, they have snow too!"

He won, and with much fishtailing and sliding, I finally made it home with a new determination to NEVER build a snowman or ever try eating yellow snow. Dad explained that driving wouldn't be so bad if I weren't in a rear wheel drive vehicle. I got a new car shortly after.

Herbivores are like rear wheel drive vehicles. They are mobilized primarily by the hind quarters, which have strength enough to jump into flight from predators. This mode is also ideal since herbivores are less concerned about determining a destination. Rather they need only turn this way or that while grazing. Since their food is everywhere, they don't have to think about where they're going. They just go wherever the land takes them, much like the snow had more control of me than I had of it. This frustration with winter driving then, is stemmed from my inherent nature to be in complete control and my conscious determination of what direction I will be going in. Gazelle don't care though, since when they're moving they jump about like fish flopping on the floor. I think I would go insane if I were a gazelle.

My next car was a front wheel drive, and things improved greatly. I would still lose control, but very rarely, and it was not a loss of control that was impossible to correct. My driving confidence has restored and I'm surviving my sixth winter. I should be rewarded.

Why thank you!

Carnivores need to have control. They take direct routes to their food, and they rely on those fore quarters to hold their prey as they tear flesh with their teeth. Snow had nothing on these super intelligent beasts. My dog Dotty used to love chasing after thrown objects, but when she realized she couldn't recover a snowball, the game was over and she stopped playing catch altogether. See? Snow cannot best them! I also can't help but feel more akin to carnivores because of their total control over the elements, and I'm sure that most people would agree with that. All my favourite animals are carnivorous, most mascots are predators, and it's the carnivores that have become our closest companions.

Four wheel drives are the best. This is my opinion anyway, because I'm sure there are people who disagree. I don't know enough about cars to really care. All I know is that in order to drive over mountains and zombie corpses, you should invest in a four wheel drive vehicle. I never feel safer doing doughnuts in the stake center parking lot than when my brother is driving the Durango. I still hate it, and I still start crying, but I at least know I'm probably not going to die. Probably.

We omnivores are the four wheel drives, which rocks. It's also why zombies are terrifying, because they're now carnivores with the power of an omnivore. Not only can we hold things down while we shred them to bits, but we can do the shredding with our hands, and then when a bigger something comes to take us down we can run like heck in any direction we like with the determination of a hunter. Are you being shot at? Run in zigzags to confuse your predator. Are the British coming to start shelling some discipline? Run in zigzags to warn as many people as you can.

Just think about this for a minute, and you too can see the brilliance in my dog's parallel drawing skills. In the meantime, consider this:

No, they weren't dropped from UFOs.

That's right. Goats in trees. Because goats can climb. Because goats eat EVERYTHING. These things are more awesome than even humans because their four wheel drive capabilities don't require thumbs or any other fingers or toes (thus earning them the place as PABST's mascot). They have the hooves of herbivores but the gas tanks of offroad Jeeps.