Wednesday, September 06, 2006
and your little dog, too
I'm officially tired of seeing girls carrying around Chihuahuas like they were knock-off Louis Vuitton bags. Louis Vuitton is, by the way, playing a practical joke. Why else would something so ugly be so expensive? I picture him laying there night after night, giggling away on his huge pile of money. I'm not sure how one giggles with a French accent but Im imagining a foppish chortle.
Sorry, Dad, I know you work for Louis sometimes, but its true. You're in an industry that hawks ugly purses.
Anyway, back to my point. A chick carries around a little dog and then everyone else has to do it too. Jelly bracelets and Birkenstocks are one thing, but monkey-see-monkey-doing a living creature is sad. Think about the final outcome: the dog is going to live about 14 years, which is about 11 years longer than the duration of the average style. When it's not cool anymore, its just a small puddle machine, and the liquid/body weight ratio is astounding.
Little dogs usually like to be carried, so that works out well for them, but they dont like to go outside to pee when its cold, and Im pretty sure they dont like to wear clothes. Once I put a sweater on my dog and he flew backwards around the house and ran into furniture and mowed over a few cats and upturned the trashcan. I had to catch him and hold him down and undress him. It made me feel mean so I don't put the sweater on him anymore, no matter how much he stands there and shivers while holding one paw in the air.
Whats going to happen to all of those nervous little dogs when theyre no longer cool? They're going to go to some twitchy little dog jail where theyre going to have caffeine withdrawals and suffer terribly from the cold. The yipping will be deafening, but at least they won't have to wear those humiliating outfits and get splashed by an overturned Starbucks when a neanderchick wearing espadrilles tries to drive the SUV and talk on the phone.
I'm not knocking the little dogs, I love little dogs. I'm the proud mother of a wienerhuahua named Snake. I got my first dog, a Chihuahua named Puddles, in 1974, then I had a Chihuahua named Chico, a Chihuahua named Buggs Alive, and a Chihuahua named Brutus (thanks Viki!) a Dachsund named Ginger and a miniature pinscher named Cowboy Bob. I won't go into the names of all the big dogs, because thats not really my point. My point is, dogs are not accessories; they are responsibility.
Somebody please tell me women aren't getting pregnant because its cool to sport a big belly. Can't we just get knocked up the old-fashioned way, by accident? Or are babies the new Chihuahua? That couldnt be, Paris hasnt been seen with one, has she?
Sorry, Dad, I know you work for Louis sometimes, but its true. You're in an industry that hawks ugly purses.
Anyway, back to my point. A chick carries around a little dog and then everyone else has to do it too. Jelly bracelets and Birkenstocks are one thing, but monkey-see-monkey-doing a living creature is sad. Think about the final outcome: the dog is going to live about 14 years, which is about 11 years longer than the duration of the average style. When it's not cool anymore, its just a small puddle machine, and the liquid/body weight ratio is astounding.
Little dogs usually like to be carried, so that works out well for them, but they dont like to go outside to pee when its cold, and Im pretty sure they dont like to wear clothes. Once I put a sweater on my dog and he flew backwards around the house and ran into furniture and mowed over a few cats and upturned the trashcan. I had to catch him and hold him down and undress him. It made me feel mean so I don't put the sweater on him anymore, no matter how much he stands there and shivers while holding one paw in the air.
Whats going to happen to all of those nervous little dogs when theyre no longer cool? They're going to go to some twitchy little dog jail where theyre going to have caffeine withdrawals and suffer terribly from the cold. The yipping will be deafening, but at least they won't have to wear those humiliating outfits and get splashed by an overturned Starbucks when a neanderchick wearing espadrilles tries to drive the SUV and talk on the phone.
I'm not knocking the little dogs, I love little dogs. I'm the proud mother of a wienerhuahua named Snake. I got my first dog, a Chihuahua named Puddles, in 1974, then I had a Chihuahua named Chico, a Chihuahua named Buggs Alive, and a Chihuahua named Brutus (thanks Viki!) a Dachsund named Ginger and a miniature pinscher named Cowboy Bob. I won't go into the names of all the big dogs, because thats not really my point. My point is, dogs are not accessories; they are responsibility.
Somebody please tell me women aren't getting pregnant because its cool to sport a big belly. Can't we just get knocked up the old-fashioned way, by accident? Or are babies the new Chihuahua? That couldnt be, Paris hasnt been seen with one, has she?
