Lack of a Dog
The first time I met an accessory dog, my friend's now-ex-wife had purchased a very small animal that she would carry around in a bag. It was excitable and would often eat its own feces, as if it realized it lacked substance. The dog went with my friend following the divorce, and he still acts sheepish about owning it.The other night, however, I met a woman who promotes clubs. They must be very sullen clubs, because the woman was often morose. In a much smaller bag she keeps a teacup chihuahua of the type Paris Hilton employs. The dog stayed in this woman's bag and slept as drinks were served around it, dropping rabbit-sized pellets onto the woman's keys.
"How long do these dogs live?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said.
"Do they fetch?" I asked. She just looked at me.
Because of this, I didn't ask my next question, which was "Are they capable of love?" because, clearly, looking as it did so much like a cat, its incapacity for real affection was obvious.
Later, we tried to use the dog as bait in the resturant's giant aquarium, but the koi were unimpressed.
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by Marty Barrett at Sunday, July 31, 2005
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