Hey People Who Obsess Over Your Dogs: You Creep Me Out a Little Bit.
Yes indeed, I'm looking at you Westminster Dog Show.
One of the weirdest events of the year went down last night in New York as 15,000 packed Madison Square Garden to look at dogs. I know.
Look, I've had a dog all my life. From "Poppy" to "Urko" to "Hank" to "Maverick", loved them all. Going on runs. Playing in the park. Having them fetch tennis balls out of the swimming pool. Yeah, I get it. Man's best friend and all that.
Just don't let them control you. Know what I mean? 1. Humans 2. Animals. Right?
These dog folks at Westminster so obsess over their pet possessions that they totally ignore and discard their humanity. Waddling around in silly clothes, making fools of themselves in an attempt to make their dogs look good.
Who does this?
When I watch my dog in the backyard I envision his canine narrative thusly ...
Wait? What?! You hear that?! It's ... I think it's ... Yes! That's the garage door! Somebody's here! OMG OMG OMG!! Somebody's here. I thought no one would ever show up. I'm going to ... let's see, yes, I'm going to jump up and down and bark and scratch the back door just in case they don't see me. They may not see me. And they are, after all, here to see me, right? Wait, I think I recognize that guy. Yes, it's the guy with the food and the leash and the scratching. Love him. But why isn't he coming directly to let me in? Maybe he doesn't see me. Maybe louder barking and higher jumping and harder scratching will get his attention. Dammit, it's been oh - I dunno, I'm a dog - like forever and I'm still out here. Will I ever get in? He's headed toward the bathroom, to let me in? I'll just wait at this door and stare. Now he's headed to the laundry room, to let me in? I'll just wait at this other door and stare. Now he's in the kitchen at the food box thingy, to let me in and feed me? I'll just wait and this door I originally started at and stare some more. Here he comes here he comes here he comes! I'm in! I'm gonna jump up (no jumping) and lick (no licking) and - finally - run around (no running) the house and do an Olympic long jump onto the couch (no couching). Ah, the good life. Wish my eyes could see what sees on that TV, but oh well. Think I'll take a na ... whoa here we go! He's headed upstairs and my doggie DNA forces to always - at any cost - win this race to the office. Ha! Where's my treat? This is boring. Why must he peck at that keyboard instead of petting me? What about me? It's all about me! I know, this usually works. I'll go to the back door and make that weird, low moaning voice. Means I want to go outside. Yes, outside! For a run. Chase squirrels. Pee on a hydrant. Anything outside! Wait, into the backyard? Why? Again?! Fine, I'll just sit and stare at the door. Eventually he'll come back to save me. Please, somebody save me!!! What do you know, I gotta poop.
In human time that all took 19 minutes.
In dog time, 19 years.
Love and care for? Absolutely. Obssess? No thanks.
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