Everyone of us at point or another has had a pet. Remember when you were little you'd grab the dog's tale and when you got older, granny would tell you about how funny it was? Well what she forgot to remind you, and you're softer than mush mind already forgot, was that the first few times you did this, Fido bit your little hand. Not a big bite. Just enough to tell you, "hey fuck-O, that's my tail, how do you like it when Mommy shoves that glass rod up your ass (if you remember rectal thermometers, your parents were cruel like mine and refused to buy the oral one). That's why I don't have Vaseline in the house. The memories make me black out. Let me tell you, there is nothing worse than waking up in the bathroom with your pants down and an open jar of Vaseline in your hand. I don't care how dry your skin is. Where was I? Oh yeah the family pet.
I remember looking through old albums and other than a few candid shots, the family pet appeared in pictures by accident. Usually his/her tail would be in the screen as mom tried to take a picture on Christmas morning. You playing with the bubble wrap instead of the shitty jack-in-the-box they got you. Oh and by the way, Mom & Dad, I'm a little kid, when I turn the handle and the pretty box makes beautiful music, the last fucking thing I expect is a freaky looking clown to jump out and stop the music. This is why kids hate clowns, there is no other logical explanation. Anyway, your dog was just about as freaked out as you and then in the middle of bubble wrap love, you reach over and grab his snout. He sneers, Dad grabs a newspaper or some other object ready to protect you and he whimpers away. After a few months of this, he gets the idea and succumbs to your tortures.
Seriously, dogs are usually good with kids, except the ones who you read about who eat them. I used to know people who had a dog named Chief. This dog was huge and scared the shit out of everyone, but I would come over and the dog would lie down and I would curl up next to him and fall asleep. He never moved unless someone he didn't know would come near by, then he'd just growl. My own dog was also protective, but in a different way. My dog Velya was a Siberian Husky who bit absolutely everyone, but me. She bit my father so bad he needed stitches and almost severed tendons. She actually bit a few mailmen. I believe she bit all four of my grandparents and then finally she bit a friend of my parents nose off. Ironically, that time it wasn't her fault. Sort of. I loved that dog, but you know what? I never felt compelled to show everyone I knew a picture of her. Not because I didn't love her. Not because she wasn't beautiful. Nope, the reason why was simple. It was my dog, why the fuck would anyone else care.
Facebook has brought to light a new kind of hysteria. Pet pictures. They are all over the place. One of my friends even started a Facebook page for her dog. Aw, isn't that cute? No it's not. It's downright frustrating. Sure I joined, I like dogs, I like her, and I like to have stuff to put in the old memory bank to make fun of people about. The truth is, our love for our pets is unconditional, but to be completely honest, I don't like your pets. Not even a little. They smell funny, they make me sneeze and they aren't nearly as cute as you think they are. Sure it's cute when they give you those wet little kisses, but you know what, you're staying home, you social outcast and you already smell like the damn dog. I'm going out and don't feel like smelling like Alpo breath.
The one thing that I can never understand is the photographs. When you are pointing your camera/phone at your dog because he's making a face (he's not really making a face, he only has one) what exactly are you thinking? Your friends won't be able to control themselves with excitement as you show them? People want to see this? No, they really don't. Unless your dog is attacking Michael Vick or licking his own balls, I don't want to see a picture. I don't want to see pictures of the other two instances either, because honestly, they'll just make me jealous.
I am not asking you to hate your pet. Love them with all your might. Love them like family. Dress them up in little outfits that you know they love. Dress them up as famous people. Do whatever the hell you want. Feel free to snap away, feel free to channel Bob Ross' spirit and paint a happy little tree with your little dog pissing against it for all I care. But for the love of god, keep the damn photographs to yourself, because as nice as your friends are, when it comes down to it, they don't care if that dog is in your lap or in your General Tso's chicken. Honestly!
I remember looking through old albums and other than a few candid shots, the family pet appeared in pictures by accident. Usually his/her tail would be in the screen as mom tried to take a picture on Christmas morning. You playing with the bubble wrap instead of the shitty jack-in-the-box they got you. Oh and by the way, Mom & Dad, I'm a little kid, when I turn the handle and the pretty box makes beautiful music, the last fucking thing I expect is a freaky looking clown to jump out and stop the music. This is why kids hate clowns, there is no other logical explanation. Anyway, your dog was just about as freaked out as you and then in the middle of bubble wrap love, you reach over and grab his snout. He sneers, Dad grabs a newspaper or some other object ready to protect you and he whimpers away. After a few months of this, he gets the idea and succumbs to your tortures.
Seriously, dogs are usually good with kids, except the ones who you read about who eat them. I used to know people who had a dog named Chief. This dog was huge and scared the shit out of everyone, but I would come over and the dog would lie down and I would curl up next to him and fall asleep. He never moved unless someone he didn't know would come near by, then he'd just growl. My own dog was also protective, but in a different way. My dog Velya was a Siberian Husky who bit absolutely everyone, but me. She bit my father so bad he needed stitches and almost severed tendons. She actually bit a few mailmen. I believe she bit all four of my grandparents and then finally she bit a friend of my parents nose off. Ironically, that time it wasn't her fault. Sort of. I loved that dog, but you know what? I never felt compelled to show everyone I knew a picture of her. Not because I didn't love her. Not because she wasn't beautiful. Nope, the reason why was simple. It was my dog, why the fuck would anyone else care.
Facebook has brought to light a new kind of hysteria. Pet pictures. They are all over the place. One of my friends even started a Facebook page for her dog. Aw, isn't that cute? No it's not. It's downright frustrating. Sure I joined, I like dogs, I like her, and I like to have stuff to put in the old memory bank to make fun of people about. The truth is, our love for our pets is unconditional, but to be completely honest, I don't like your pets. Not even a little. They smell funny, they make me sneeze and they aren't nearly as cute as you think they are. Sure it's cute when they give you those wet little kisses, but you know what, you're staying home, you social outcast and you already smell like the damn dog. I'm going out and don't feel like smelling like Alpo breath.
The one thing that I can never understand is the photographs. When you are pointing your camera/phone at your dog because he's making a face (he's not really making a face, he only has one) what exactly are you thinking? Your friends won't be able to control themselves with excitement as you show them? People want to see this? No, they really don't. Unless your dog is attacking Michael Vick or licking his own balls, I don't want to see a picture. I don't want to see pictures of the other two instances either, because honestly, they'll just make me jealous.
I am not asking you to hate your pet. Love them with all your might. Love them like family. Dress them up in little outfits that you know they love. Dress them up as famous people. Do whatever the hell you want. Feel free to snap away, feel free to channel Bob Ross' spirit and paint a happy little tree with your little dog pissing against it for all I care. But for the love of god, keep the damn photographs to yourself, because as nice as your friends are, when it comes down to it, they don't care if that dog is in your lap or in your General Tso's chicken. Honestly!
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