I don’t hate your dog.  But for the purpose of letting you know how I feel about dealing with you, and your dog (but more specifically you and your dog), let’s just say I hate your dog…  but it’s true, sort of.  It isn’t that I think your dog is a soulless being, that only takes and is to be hated, no.  I just am not at all involved in the relationship of dependence and self-importance, which the two of you share so intimately.  So I don’t hate your dog.  But I do resent you for making me feel either way.

All it ever does is put its nose on me.  Sometimes if it’s tall enough it licks my hand and worst-case scenario, it jumps on me, and claws at my skin and clothes.  Also, it barks: loudly all the time.  It’s the reason I hate living near you; it’s the reason I don’t like to hang out at your house; it’s the reason I never talk to you when I see you out with it; and if it comes up on me with any of this shit that you just let your dog do to people when walking by the coffee shop (which they’ve paid too much to enjoy filthy animal free), I will not hesitate to kick your dog.

Your dog is worse than second hand smoke.  It doesn’t cause cancer, but I’d prefer a shorter life to a long one, full of your fucking shitty, smelly dog.

And your dog doesn’t give a fuck about you.  It’s just a way for you to feel meaningful.  Which is fine; I am not trying to judge anyone’s method of creating meaning in their life, but your ‘meaning’ is drooling on my clothes and food.  There are way more awkward things that people do to make themselves feel important, but you should realize your dog doesn’t care so much about you as you’d like to think.  I only say that because I feel like you are under the impression that your dog knows you and appreciates you as an individual.  I get the sense sometimes that you communicate with your dog in front of me as if I were there to watch what you’re like with your dog.  I don’t care what doggy psychology books you’ve wasted time reading, but all you are is the asshole that has the food (and the asshole), and that knows how to work the door.

Human psychology isn’t that complex.  Either is dog psychology.  Get over yourself, and get your dog the fuck away from me.

Your dog isn’t cute to me.  It looks like all the other dogs.  I don’t care what you’ve been through together.  My TV has been there for some rough times, but I’m not going to bring it to people’s house-warming parties and have people watch me tell it what to do while I talk about what kind it is.  However, if I did, we could leave it in the corner and pay attention to it when we wanted to without it getting excited and putting fluids on us.

What I really hate, is how needy you are about other people’s feelings towards your dog.  It’s just an animal that you keep and control in your presence when you choose, so that you can exercise your desire to keep and control things, and I’m supposed to pretend that it’s a person?  Care about your stories about it?  Meet it and let it “get comfortable with my presence” and wait until it settles down to resume not being molested by an animal that I would otherwise eat (yeah, I would eat your dog.  Unless it tasted bad.  Which it probably does because it sucks).

I was just sitting here, now your dog is doing things that make me not want to be here.  Do you enjoy this?  Before your dog, were you just an asshole that liked making people feel uncomfortable, but hated having to take credit for being an asshole?  If so, congratulations, you found the perfect dog.  Fuck your animal.

If dogs lived for 40 years there’d be fewer dog owners.  But they don’t.  That’s why you indulge in your affection for it.  Because you know that it isn’t as significant an emotional investment as you pretend it is.  So stop acting like it’s your child, because if you wanted to have a relationship that extensive, it would be a child.

And your dog is a status symbol.  Especially if you live in the city.  If you are a couple and you live in the city and you have 1 or more of the same type of pure bread dog, just go ahead and print your annual income on your Christmas cards.  You know, the ones you send out with pictures of you and your dogs on them.  If you have the time, space, food and energy to invest in and support designer dogs that look good in sweaters you ordered from a catalogue, you better be sterile, 1- because it’d make owning such extravagant creatures slightly more understandable;  2- because watching you turn this narcissistic and obsessive behavior towards your own offspring might make me puke in my coffee.

I would never kick your child…

Unless it snarled then jumped on me.

31/12/2007
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