Aloha dear reader!
It is incredibly trite to begin a blog post by asserting ‘there are only two types of people in the world…’ and then continuing to make observations that support this assertion.
Well my friends, I am never above poop jokes and therefore am never ever above trite assertions.
With that in mind?
There are only two types of dudes in the world - dudes who love big dogs and little dog dudes.
The first look for a trusted companion, a creature of power, dominance and majesty.
The others like having a big useless hound that takes up a lotta space, eats bags and bags of food then deposits mountainous piles of hot hot dog logs all around their territory.
I’d go so far to say that a big dog love has some sort of poo fetish.
Which mutt do you imagine I prefer dear reader?
Given my love of toilet soaked tag lines, one might suppose that I have a poo fetish. That seems reasonable.
But, I’m a troll and a fool and being reasonable?
That’s not how I roll.
I’m a small dog man.
I like little ones.
Both of my dogs - the red one and the fluffy one?
Neither of them weighs more than ten pounds.
Both though have taken a huge bite outta my heart.
Today?
I saw the cutest little ball of fluff.
He was tiny but mighty.
Dear reader, picture this: An all white Pomeranian no bigger than a cha hua hua.
Right?
The cuteness was violent, viscous and all together intolerable.
And yes.
Viscous.
The diggity dun doodler was thick with cuteness.
OH MY GAWD YOUR PUPPY IS ADORABLE!
I gushed to the two legged walking with such majesty.
Dear reader,
When I see cute dogs on the sidewalk, I can’t help myself.
Impulse control goes out the window and I shout joyous assertions at strangers.
Do I come on strong?
Perhaps.
But at least I’m not grabbing the cuties by the leash and running away with them.
Right?
There’s some restraint being exercised.
Not much.
But enough to keep me outta jail.
My dog’s no puppy. She’s fourteen.
This fact mattered little to me. Any small dog, no matter the age gets the label of ‘puppy’ from me. There’s something about a little dog that just allows it to say young, light and maintain that puppy vibe.
Well she doesn’t look a day over four to me!
The lady blushed and told me that I was flattering her.
It’s difficult not to gush at the sight of the eternal positivity and pluck that comes with a small dog.
And that dear reader is what I love best about small dogs.
They have pluck and they have joy.
They embody youthfulness even as they age.
Oh sure, some say that we overvalue youth and undervalue experience in our culture.
Those people?
Well, they can just go fuck the fuck off all the way to the bottom of the ocean.
Those are the grumpy old arseblasters who embody the basset hound.
Basset hounds look old even when they are puppies.
Basset hound people?
They resent the kind of cute that’s less impacted by gravity than themselves and make odd platitudes about preferring the wisdom of age over youthful exhuberance.
And that kind of jealousy?
That gets you nowhere.
Well…
That’s not entirely true dear reader.
That kind of jealousy gets you mocked by yours truly.
At work, there are a couple of people that capture this beautifully.
One man?
He’s a big old dog. Gruff and fucking boring. He has ‘airs of sophistication’ and importance.
In reality?
He has all the vitality of a limp lump of coal in a dark dirty pipe.
He’s so boring, he’d put a drill company outta business.
But, because he’s got that old big dog energy, people think he’s wise.
Me?
He just seems afraid and fragile.
Contrast him with a young woman I work with.
She’s seventy two going on seventeen.
She’s filled with all kinds of Pomeranian energy.
I love being around her.
What’s more?
She’s given me much more inspired and truly profound advice than that old dog who warned me about some of the ways I could get in trouble by doing things wrong.
It seems that one can be wise while without guile
And pretence.
So if you can?
Take on some small dog energy.
Stay young.
And if that’s unpossible?
It’s fine if they think that you’re younger than you behave.
