dog party

I hate Dog Parties.

And just what is a Dog party, you ask?  Why, it's one of the worst abominations placed on this earth by the Great Lord Satan, that's what it is.  In laywoman's terms, it is a confluence of various dogs and their owners who gather together and stand around looking at/talking about their dogs in that really annoying way that only Dog People can do.  They, you know, talk in baby voices to their pets and talk about the best place to buy dog sweaters and, oh! Mr. Muffins did the cutest thing the other day!  You know what I mean.

I try to avoid dog-cluttered areas as best I can.  That pretty much rules out dog parks and, I don't know--dog groomeries?  I just don't like dogs.  As I touched upon in my brief discussion of why I hate large animals, certain animals can harm you without even meaning it.  Although I didn't include dogs in the original tirade, they are definitely in this category.  They are unpredictable and have sharp teeth.  One minute they're happily being petted and the next they're clamped on to your throat, trying to protect the milk bone that you accidentally looked at for too long.  Plus, they're stupid and smelly and are too friendly and need too much attention.  Give me an aloof, intelligent, non-stinky cat any day.

There were three dogs here when I first moved into my apartment complex.  Two of them are owned by the most insanely Dog Person-y person you will ever meet, and her pets are the most disgusting beasts I have ever laid eyes upon.  One is an old, decrepit pug named Elvis who, because of severe inbreeding, can't breathe very well and so is constantly snorting and snuffing and white foamy shit is always frothing out of his nose.  So fucking gross.  The other one is a schnauzer named Boris who barks all the damn time and has that gross wiry fur that feels like a dirty Brillo pad--which I only know because I was forced (forced, I say!) to pet the thing.  Their owner talks to them like they're her children, as if they actually understand and/or care what she has to say. 

Okay, fine.  Three dogs, whatever.  Even with the incredible grossness/annoyingness of the aforementioned two--whatever.  But now, for some unknown reason, the dog population has swelled to no less than eight.  Eight!  This is not okay.  Especially because all the dog owners have apparently banded together through some sort of Dog Person telepathy and now magically converge all at once in the communal courtyard with their dogs: the dreaded Dog Party. 

Sometimes I have to wade through all the dogginess, which is not fun.  There's all sorts of smelling and snuffling of snot and awkward stepping over little moving animals.  Plus I feel immense pressure to pet them and say how cute they are and stuff--because if you don't do that then people will just think you're weird and/or a heartless monster. 

We like to keep our door open with the screen shut (for the fresh air, you understand), so usually I just have to listen to Dog Party.  It sounds like this:

"Yapyapyapyapyapyap."

"Boris likes Shishi!  They're boyfriend and girlfriend!"

"Yapyapyapyapyapyap."

"Oh, now Shishi is getting embarrassed!  Let's pretend like we don't know they're in love!"

"Yapyapyapyapyapyapbark."

"Dog sweaters...adorable...monogrammed leash...pet food poisoning...dog sweaters..."

"Yapyapyapyapyap."

"Yapyapyapyapyapyapyap."

So, right about now is when I get up and slam the door and yell, "I hate Dog Parties!" to no one in particular. 

To make matters worse, I was outed as a Dog Hater at a recent apartment complex function (a birthday party for Elvis, no less).  All of Elvis' dog friends were there, as was a birthday cake made out of meatloaf, "frosted" with mashed potatoes, and adorned with hot dog "candles."  These people are insane, I'm telling you. 

Anyway, Ian and I felt obligated to attend and so I was sitting there awkwardly, trying not to get assaulted by any of the various dog attendees.  Elvis kept hiding under my chair, which freaked me out (his owner's explanation was alternately that he was suffering from "social anxiety" and that he "likes you" [meaning me]).  I think that Ian saw my face contorted in poorly masked horror and tried to intervene on my behalf: "Could you try to keep Elvis away from Sarah?  She doesn't like dogs." 

Now, imagine that last line reverberating into space, echoing off of all available surfaces, and bouncing into every Dog Person's ears with horrible clarity.  Then imagine all their heads swiveling towards me, faces awash in disapproval/horror/pure hatred.  It was like Ian had said that I like to impregnate virginal nuns, induce abortion, and then eat the fetuses for Sunday brunch. 

Not too long after that I was walking through the courtyard when Elvis waddled over to me and started sniffing at me.  His owner, once again, insisted that he "liked" me, but then scooped him up and whisked him away with a "Oh, but you don't like dogs."  I've become some sort of Dog Pariah.

Oh well.  It's probably for the best.  Once you've been to one Dog Party, you've been to them all.

(On a side note, it is truly disturbing how many relevant images came up when I googled "dog party.")

Comments

[roisin]

1. dogs are better than cats. 2. meatloaf frosting made me laugh aloud a little in class.

[Moira]

roisin tried to feed me a dog cake last night. i just thought it was her homemade version of the kfc famous bowl. now i know what she really thinks of me.

[Kristina]

i also hate dogs, and all other animals, except the ones on my plate. like steak.

there is a dog that lives across the alley from the house i bought. it barks when i drive by the house. i have already filed a complaint with animal control. 2 more strikes and it's adios damn perro.

[food poisoning symptoms]

1. dogs are better than cats. 2. meatloaf frosting made me laugh aloud a little in class.