Dogs 366-371

Something I used to wonder about is why people even do this in the first place, tie their dog to a parking meter while they go inside a store or whatever; don't they worry about someone stealing their dog? I think I know why: sometimes, you can just tell that dude's tail isn't going to wag for you unless you're the guy that tied him up in the first place, and nobody, not even a would-be dog thief, wants to be exposed to such a wrist-slitting apocalypse of sadness.


There's a certain type of individual you will inevitably run across who listens very carefully to every conversation taking place around them, just waiting for the correct moment to open their mouth and begin saying their opinions. This correct moment never comes. Because it doesn't exist. But you will never be able to tell them that.


I know you have theories and ideas you want to share with me. I know this. But I am on a personal mission to try to convince the rest of America that we're not all hippies and Grateful-Dead-remembering acid casualties who think shampoo represents oppression here. You are not helping.


Do we understand, as a people, why short-haired breeds just won't ever be completely awesome? When I think about a dog, I picture a couple of shaggy dudes like this who I can run up to and ruffle, some real fuzzy guys who I'll never have to put a sweater on. You know what I'm saying?


Maybe this is just me, but that's not really a look I want to be waiting to greet me when I get done with whatever errand I was just running. I could be the only one, though. Who knows.


Buddy, we're trying to eat here; nobody wants to see your Cloverfield monster impression while there's food we want to keep down, OK?