Tales From the Vault

I was cleaning out some files and came across this little posting that I think was on my old blog. Kinda funny although I haven't a clue as to what prompted me to write it although I'm sure it had to do with the woman who lives in my building and is always with her "babies." She talks to them like they're kids. It's pathetic, for her and the dogs.

Anyway, here it is, something from the archives.

Lately, I’ve been seeing more and more people are walking around with pocket dogs. You know the ones I’m talking about. They fit in a handbag. Their bark sounds like perhaps they’ve been sucking on helium and they look like the business end of a good mop.

I hate these little pests. They’re not dogs. They’re more like rats with an attitude. If you are a guy and you have a pocket dog, it’s time to come out of the closet. I have it on good authority that women are not attracted to men with these little sissy dogs. For the ladies out there, getting one of these dogs signifies a major step in your life. You have given up hope of finding a man and eventually settling down and having children.

I see these women all the time. They give their dogs names as if they were children. Gone are the old style dog names like rover and rex. One woman in my building has two of these little things. She named them Jane and James. She calls James “Jimmy”, unless she’s mad. Then she actually says James Charles Smith (the last name I won’t give out, for fear of someone recognizing this lunatic and handing me a defamation lawsuit). This woman says things like “kids, get on the elevator, others are waiting” as if these stupid little balls of fur can understand her. They run in and out of the elevator and she is constantly holding the doors and, therefore, holding me up on my way to and from my apartment.

She isn’t the only one. They’re everywhere. You see them on the street. Usually they are attached to a 25 foot retractable leash. These cords are like some Vietnam era tripwire. I know this because I am constantly stepping over them to avoid being flipped onto the street. Occasionally I let my foot get caught in the leash and I give a hard pull. This will pull the dog off the sidewalk and towards me. Suddenly, I am 9 again and playing kickball. The dog is sent flying and the strength and length of the tripwire is tested. Ok, this doesn’t happen but damn it I want to try it once.

To make matters worse, these rodent owners take to dressing up their pets. Little dog sweaters, booties and hats. It’s sad really, for both the dog and the owner. Putting a sweater on your dog is the last gasp before succumbing to the lonely life you are destined to live. And please, don’t tell me Paris Hilton dresses her dog up and she is far from lonely. Why do you think she acts the way she does? She’s crying out for attention and is in dire need of a man who will be the friend, lover and companion she is seeking. Paris, I can be that man and I won’t sell any video to some sleazy internet smut peddler. I’ll peddle it myself and make twice as much.

Anyway, seeing a dog in a sweater is a sad thing. You can’t help but stare. It’s like looking at a really ugly woman. You don’t want to look but your eyes are drawn to the ugliness. Before you know it, the ugly woman is looking back at you, you are forced to smile and suddenly you’re dating her. Ok, that doesn’t happen to everyone. It should. It would leave the hot girls for the guys that deserve them, namely me.

Did you ever notice how you don’t see a big dog in a sweater. Do you think a black lab or a german shepard would stand for such nonsense. Nope. The first time you tried to put a rain slicker on a Doberman would be the last time. The dog would bite you, grab its bowl and chew toy and move out. I don’t think they even make sweaters for those sized dogs.

When you see a dog in a sweater, no matter how small and annoying and ugly that small dog is, you are overcome with a sense of pity. It’s like seeing a child dressed in some horrific way, like knickers on a young boy. While you hate the dog, you can feel the suffering. These dogs always look like they are ashamed to be with their owner and the dogs always have this “please, kick me into oncoming traffic” look on their faces.

Well, if you are a small dog, and if you are subjected to being dressed up like some loser’s child, stop by NYC and look me up. I’ll gladly kick you into traffic.