We just adopted a Cocker pup, a skinny little former stray, but healthy and happy thanks to the kind people at Shorewood Cocker Rescue. He’s a bit thin, and it’s bone-chilling weather here in Minnesota, so until he beefs up he needs a warm little sweater to wear on long walks. This prompted me to browse the web to find him something comfortable, durable and not to goofy-looking.
WARNING: What I found may shock and outrage you as it did me.
Just because a holiday is coming is no reason to humiliate an entire species for no other purpose than so Aunt Midge can pull out her Instamatic and say say, “Ohh, fer cute, hold him while I take her pitcher.” Sure, part of the problem is that Aunt Midge has a forty-year-old Instamatic that uses Flashcubes and has a broken cover held on by an Elmo Band-Aid so it takes her roughly eleven hours to snap one picture, but we’re missing the bigger problem here.
The problem is the dogs. The noble domestic canine, canis lupis familiaris, loyal acolyte, protector, laborer, forced to wear some polymorphic nightmare while we laugh at them. Cases in point:
This is good for your faithful friend’s self concept. Let him out in the neighborhood and even the rabbits will laugh at him. Then he’ll get beat up by a poodle, dragged into the gutter by a kitten, thrown in the pound and gang-banged by a family of Dachshunds. Merry Christmas, King Timahoe.
Hi! I’m a meticulously bred champion terrier. Well known for my courage, graceful line and gentle demeanor, while not without a keen hunting skill passed down to me through centuries. This Christmas, my family decided to show me their love by strapping a stuffed toy to my back, and now I look like that sad bastard in the taco ads. Thank you.
Good dog. I love you. Now sit there like a dumb asshole with a foam tree tied to your head while Aunt Midge takes your picture. Stay now, Aunt Midge can’t find any Flashcubes. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable. I don’t care if you have to spritz! SIT, DAMMIT!
Okay, here we go. Let’s extend our passive loathing of dogs directly to our faith system. I’ll assume that they both went to Kanine Shul, And I think I heard the short one lecture on the Mekhilta Midrash at Congregation Beth Fido. I’m sure any family of faith will want to address their dog as “Reb Bowser.”
I’ve said my peace. But if I see any of you on the street, all festive and jolly, with a dog dressed in anything but a modest, practical sweater or snow booties, I promise I’ll bite you.