Tag Archives: Dogs

The Shame of The Domesticated Human

The Shame of The Domesticated Human

Dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them’s making a poop, the other one’s carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge.
― Jerry Seinfeld

Let me begin by saying that I freaking love animals. Well, almost all animals. I’m not a huge fan of the hyena or the wolverine because they are just huge assholes.

That’s a scientific fact.

Seriously, look at these jackasses!

Seriously, look at these jackasses!

I’ll start over. I love all non-douchebag animals.

Now that we have that established…

I especially love dogs. I have a dog who is so awesome, it’s like if Jesus Christ and Spiderman had a dog baby. Yeah, that’s how god-damned off the hook my dog is.

However, I do sit and ponder at times, as I watch him go at his donkus like it’s his last meal, why we think it’s OK to have these beasts live INSIDE our houses and skulk among us.

(I know you may be wondering if this profound thought occurred to me after the inhalation of some organic substance but the answer is no. I don’t need weed to think like this. At least not this time.)

Most of us generally try to minimize the invasion of outside elements inside our cozy little human dens. We freak out and go all Charles Manson on spiders, flies, mice, rats, whatever living thing was not expressly invited into our Pottery Barn lives.

But, for some reason, we find it completely acceptable to have filthy canines and felines take over our entire home, shed skin and hair all over the place, upchuck anything from cat turds to hairballs to chicken bones on our new area rugs (a wipeable surface isn’t even open for discussion), and practically shoot fleas and ticks at you like one of those t-shirt guns.

Then they top it all off by mining their buttholes with their tongues and proceed to lick you all over the face.

They are totally flipping us off, you know that, right? They are all a pack of hairy grifters pulling the best scam ever.

It really is like we are in some sort of sado-masochistic relationship where we have not established a safe word.

They stink up our houses, lay around all day, don’t pay any rent, demand to be watered AND fed and crap all over our lawns.

It’s like your annoying unemployed brother-in-law has come for an extended visit.

But I don’t have opposable thumbs, dude….be reasonable! You cannot resist me! Now what’s for dinner? And, while you’re up, go get me another beer.

But, damn it, they are so soft and cute!!!

The entire human race has been glammered.  Like vampire glammered.

You will believe the fact that I poop in a box is adorable.

Has anyone even looked into other species to bring into our homes for….whatever the hell it is they do for us?

(Yeah, I know…love, companionship, acceptance. All the stuff we are supposed to get from other humans and don’t. Which is why the divorce rate is so high.)

For your consideration: the naked mole rat. Now here is an animal that can use a little love and acceptance.

Happy little mole rat eating a tuber.

Happy little mole rat eating a tuber.

Just think of the fun little outfits you could dress him in. And, this guy could really use a sweater.

Not so much?

OK, how about a sloth? From what I read in Us Magazine last time I was at the gynecologist, they are all the rage right now.

Yeah, baby. Let’s put on a little R&B, pour a snifter of Courvoisier and……..sorry! I nodded off!

Though, personally, owning one of the seven deadly sins feels a little risky.

OK, so now that I have googled as many weird animals as I can to avoid work, I suppose dogs and cats do have a bit of a case. They’ve learned to adapt to us and we’ve not only adapted to them, we worship them like deities.

What’s that you say, man’s best friend? You need me to express your anal glands?

My pleasure!

Finally, Those Dog Names You’ve Been Needing

Finally, Those Dog Names You’ve Been Needing

Dogs are the new kid. I know this because I’m hopelessly hip and I have observed the uptick in dog-friendly restaurants and the lack of kid-friendly bars.

When Jim and I were childless (also known as our salad days) we had an ongoing game of coming up with dog names. We were in the market for one so we could fill the void in our souls and evidently, we also wanted to severely hinder our freedom for some reason. We were, and are, lunatics.

Unlike naming a child, you could come up with some really weird dog names without the fear of them killing you execution style in your sleep when they hit puberty.

We had a notepad with us at all times to be sure we didn’t miss any nuggets of creativity. Our friends were in on it too. It was an epic time.

Unbelievably, the other day I came across the list shoved in the back of a drawer. It was like finding the Dead Sea Scrolls – I believe I heard angels sing as the clouds parted.

So, here is that list of dog names you’ve all been asking for. I’ve thoughtfully categorized for you as well, because I’m a giver.

A tribute to the golden age of television:

  • Bob Barker
  • Mr. Tate
  • Nipsy Russell
  • Wheezy Jefferson
  • Tootie
  • Ted Baxter
  • Rhodamorgenstern
  • Gopher
  • Mata Hari
  • Señor Wences

What if the next coming of Christ was in the form of a dog?

  • Stigmata
  • Hosana
  • JesusHChrist
  • Hey, Zeus!

Names Jim (alone) thought were hilarious:

  • Nostopdigging
  • Heycomehere

And, just random shit we came up with while drunk:

  • M’na M’na
  • Pubes
  • Humpy
  • Bung
  • Yeltsin
  • Squanto
  • Mekamazon

Let me explain this one. Jim always thought that in the awesome song “Brick House” by The Commodores, she was built like a “mekamazon.”I know, it makes absolutely no sense.

But, then, I thought that in the Eurythmics song “Sweet Dreams” the rain was falling on her head like a “mammary.” I also thought that there was a reference to a “little Dutch priest” in The Heart of Rock and Roll by Huey Lewis and the News. So, I guess we are meant for each other.

We choked at the last minute and named our new dog, a Beagle, Lucy. Which is, as everyone knows, the poor man’s Snoopy. I am, to this day, exceptionally disappointed in us.

In fact, if I had a time machine I would not go back and kill Hitler. I’d go back and re-name our first dog. That’s how bad I feel about this.

We are now on our second dog and, frankly, we didn’t do a whole lot better. His name is Calvin. Though, I like to call him Calvinicus Maximus.

All hail Calvinicus Maximus, defender of the Roman Empire!

And now, a blatant attempt to get more of an audience by posting cute pictures of our dog with the lame name. I admit to this shilling willingly and you all should just suck it up and become unnaturally charmed by the site of those puppy eyes.

Where’s the cat, you ask? What cat?


You will give me all your money…..you will give me all your money….you will give me all your money….


Did I eat the cat poop out of the litter box? Wha? I….er….um….what was the question again?