Recently I was at a party making small talk with a
young married couple I’d never met while waiting in line to grab a drink. Since
I get a kick out of the misery in the eyes of young parents coupled with the
excitement pouring out of them to have ditched the kids for a night, I always
ask, “So any children yet?” In response the wife says, “No kids, but we do have
a dog.” Seeing as I was still waiting in line, I lacked the distraction of
gazing amorously at the whiskey in my hand and proceeded to Grant Rant to
myself over this woman’s lunacy.
Dogs are not children. It’s fine if you’d like to
change the subject, but please don’t compare having a dog with having a child.
First, you’re a stranger, so I don’t really care about your kids, but at least
I get a bit of sadistic joy out of your sleepless nights, and occasionally luck
out with a hilarious story about how you somehow let your kid get into a bottle
of ibuprofen or get his leg stuck in a coffee table which he needed to be sawed
out of (two true stories, one father). But lady, I could care less about the
little rat dog you let sit on your lap while you drive expect of course to
think that it’s dangerous and insane. Then she proceeds to refer to herself as
“Mommy” and her husband as “Daddy.” Again, we’re talking about a dog. While
your own spawn may grow up to eat out of the garbage and shit in the park,
owning a dog that does the same doesn’t qualify you to be titled Mommy and Daddy.
As much as you’ll wish you could spay your promiscuous daughter someday, you
can’t. Furthermore, what messed up Freudian shit do you have going on that you
need to unnecessarily call your husband Daddy? Perhaps that should be saved for
another rant, but I’ve never understood that other than to think it gross.
Finally, the Christmas cards you sent out with
pictures of your dog don’t sound “cute.” If I wanted to see pictures of cute
dogs I’d search puppies on Google. You know what I do with Christmas cards from
anyone other than my closest friends? I look at them for a few seconds, think
it’s nice that several years ago they liked me enough to add me to their
outlook contact list, and promptly throw it away. Putting your dog on the card
did get me to look at the card a little longer, but only long enough to think
you’re a clown for dressing up your dog like a reindeer. So listen clown, dogs
are not children, they’re for retrieving downed birds and picking up women at
the park, so save the stories about your “kids” until you squeeze one out of
your, well, you know.
