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These are serious times. If you doubt that, just look to California, where Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger recently vetoed a bill to fine motorists for sharing the driver's seat with Fifi.

According to The Associated Press, Arnie is only signing bills "with the highest priority for California." Like making sure no banks or brokerage firms have windows that can be opened above the second floor.

Note to Beverly Hills matrons: Your lap dogs, if not your portfolios, are safe.

The question here is, why in the world would you want 8 pounds of panting fur ball fidgeting around just inches away from the steering wheel, not to mention your panties?

Cripes, I've known dogs — and at least one cat — who would demand to take the wheel.

("Move over, I'm in charge here. Which way to PetSmart?")

Drinking and driving don't mix. Same for driving and dogs.

The first animal I remember riding around in a car was the family dog, Pretzels, who I think might just possibly have been part coyote.

Years ago, we lived part of the week in Tombstone, part of the week in Tucson. Which meant transporting the entire family, con Pretzels, twice a week via ye olde station wagon.

We three kids sat in the backseat, with Pretzels sandwiched between our parents in the front seat. Save for the fur, at a quick glance he could have passed for several of our relatives.

As I recall, Pretzels was a perfect passenger, never yelping, scratching or losing his lunch.

The same can't be said for J.D., the Weimaraner we acquired when our kids were little.

On a family trip to Yellowstone in a borrowed RV, J.D. stood in the aisle for much of the first leg of the trip, retching and miserable. Thank heavens he lost his carsickness on the trip back.

Boy, did he make a good watchdog whenever we left the RV for side jaunts. Sat in the driver's seat the whole time, though if someone had broken in I'm not sure what he would have done. Drowned them with drool, perhaps.

After J.D., we inherited a poodle named Aquarius who may possibly have been bipolar.

This dog could lie so still we once had neighbors who were watching the house who feared that he had died.

Other times, he would chase around the yard, barking at leaves and other menacing intruders.

About the only time he rode in the car was when we picked him up at the groomers. One time we went straight from there to see the lights at Winterhaven. Not sure which Aquarius enjoyed most — the lights or preening at himself in the window's reflection.

Poodles.

Now that I think about it, other than spitup and a lot of smudged windows, our dogs didn't do too badly in the family car.

The same can't be said about our cat, Oscar. One time, and one time only, I made the mistake of picking him up at the vet's without a kid to hold him on the way home.

He sat on my lap. He sat on my head. He sat on my foot while it was on the accelerator. He sat on the brake pedal.

It's a miracle we both made it home in one piece.

Tell you what, if California doesn't have a law against cats roaming free in a car, it oughta get one.

Trust me, it's like texting behind the wheel, changing the radio dial and eating a chimichanga. All at the same time.