I like dog.

Because some dogs get better therapy and better manicures than I do. This depresses me to no end. There's little more revolting than a Best-In-Show Competition. A grooming session for one of those dogs is double my rent.

My sister yells at me whenever I call her chihuahua a diseased possum. This is a dog that acts not unlike a high-power administrative assistant, minus (or not) the peeing routine whenever you approach her. I was once told not to call a particular dog 'ugly' because I might scar it psychologically. Seriously? I suddenly wanted to scar this personal, physically.

 

I just don't understand this whole dog culture thing. They are DOGS. Just dogs. And no, it doesn't mean I go around kicking Golden Retrievers in the head or mixing motor oil in their Alpo. I love dogs. I'm just not going to spend a year's salary training it to solve complex mathematics or perform lobotomies and you shouldn't either. Dog competitions are the essence of useless. It would make sense if after the competition, the dogs were broiled and eaten by the audience. All that high-maintenance would indeed pay off if we could all enjoy a succulent Pug head on a skewer. Don't get me wrong, I don't wish Pugs any harm. If anything they seem like the sweetest of dogs- which is why I would probably eat one. I don't mean this in a bad way. My intentions are heavenly and delicious.


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