My comfort duck …

I was pretty sure I could find someone somewhere to certify my duck as a “service animal.” In fact, after a little research, I found I can even do it online. 

I’ll just tell them I feel anxiety without my duck; I need to take my duck to comfort me and assuage my fears wherever I go. My duck will be an “emotional support animal.”  That’s actually an official government designation: an ESA.   

Then I could get an official “service animal” vest for my duck. Maybe a little leash, too. I could take my duck anywhere – on planes, trains, out shopping, to restaurants, wherever.    

It can’t be all that tough. I see people all the time in airports or out shopping with ancient bug-eyed little rat dogs in service animal wraps. If it’s not chihuahuas, or teeny-tiny Dobermans, it’s miniature poodles or cockapoos with that red-brown gunk under their eyes.

And they are all tagged as service animals. In what capacity?   

I understand real service animals, like guide dogs for the visually impaired.   

I don’t understand that designation for yappy little pets people get certified just so they don’t have to leave Muffy or Sparky at home when they travel or go out shopping. 

I suspect these are the same folks who continue to use handicap hang tags for better parking spots years after they once had some ingrown toenail surgery. Or the ones in handicap spots with twin bike racks on their cars.  It kind of makes you wonder what’s going on.     

I feel the same about so many animals tagged with the service animal designation for no apparent reason. I’ve yet to see a teacup cockapoo, poodle, chihuahua, or other miniature animal with a harness on to guide their owner. So they must be “comfort animals”: that strange, relatively new category seemingly created to indulge the whims of self-absorbed owners.

It’s actually pretty easy to do this.  In fact, here’s a link to get started:

www.usserviceanimals.org

They also sell the cute little vests, and will provide a doctor’s note for travel. Now, there are real rules for service animals to qualify under the Americans with Disabilities Act – those animals actually have to be trained to perform some specific function. But the standard is much, much lower for an emotional support animal.

Go ahead. Go up to that site.  You’ll see that an ESA can be a cat, a dog, a pig, a ferret, a miniature horse, or something else, which, I suspect, would also cover a duck. 

I am not making this up.  

At a time when some colleges are providing puppy encounters and kitten cuddling for students distressed by the possibility of hurtful speech, or even by exams, the idea of ESAs for everyone only seems logical.  Why can’t the parents of these emotionally fragile students have access to the same therapeutic benefits of an ESA?  Aren’t they just as special?  And needy? 

It took these latest generations to teach us how special everyone can be, and the benefits of being special.  And a lot of people have now taken that lesson to heart, in everything. 

Since there are now so many special people in this country, with so many special needs, particularly emotional needs, I’m feeling somewhat left out.  That’s why I think a comfort duck might be a way to join their ranks. 

Of course, I’d go through all the proper paperwork to get my duck certified as a service animal under the “emotional support” category. I might even buy the doctor’s note so my duck could travel on planes with me. (It would be faster than trying to fly wherever I’m going on his own.)

Who is to say my duck doesn’t reduce my anxiety? That’s the beauty of it: I’ll claim I need my comfort duck to keep me calm. Try to disprove that.   

There are so many other benefits to having a comfort duck.  People don’t instinctively hate ducks; most people think ducks are pretty neat.  Everybody loves the Aflac duck, don’t they? Then there’s Donald Duck, Daffy Duck, and the Peabody Ducks. 

I think the biggest problem will be people who want to pet my duck. At which point I’ll have to tell them please don’t because my duck is actually working.   

I just imagine how many people would look at my duck and think of me: “why, he must be some kind of special to have that comfort duck.” Some might be brave enough to ask me if my duck knows any tricks. “He eats, poops and quacks,” I’ll respond, “that’s pretty much his day.”

My comfort duck may look like any other duck but he’ll make me special.   

And in this day and age, doesn’t everybody have a right to be special?