A couple of weeks ago, I was walking across 40th Street in Midtown East to grab some dinner for Boyfriend Kamran and myself on one of those summery days that was already delightful enough as it was, when I spotted a woman with TWIN BULLDOGS that were grumpily waddling around the kind of little red wagon that you see parents pulling their children in. I asked if it was okay for me to take a picture (because OMG, twin bulldogs!),
and she unclipped their leashes (because of course they’re too slow to take off anywhere)
and tried to push down their butts to make them sit and pose (but of course they weren’t having it).
And then I went to Kamran’s apartment and bragged and bragged about it, because he’s so allergic to pets that he can’t even look at them.
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I like that the ad at the bottom of the page is offering to sell me Gaydar. Of all the skills I already possess (and how!) and for which I have no need…
Also, aw. Cute. Pet allergies would be a romantic deal-breaker for me, I’m afraid.
Hmm. Is “bulldog” some sort of gay term that I’m unaware of? Or maybe it was just the word butts that did it. Because dog butts are sexy like human butts and without the pinworms.
Alas, I have no time to devote to a furniture-chewing dog, anyway, but you can bet that as soon as Kamran and I move to a house in upstate Connecticut with a rolling backyard and plenty of baby-owning neighbors (the horror!), we’re going to have one of those crazy hypoallergenic mixes with the human hair.
OMG! That tongue! I want to shnorgle!
(Yes, I have a dog-voice which is considerably higher than my normal tone. I hope it lessens once Kandarpa gets a dog. However, I sincerely doubt it will.)
I sort of feel like these are the only two faces that I make, as well: expectant with tongue dangling and disappointed/hurt with tongue dangling.
When you record a snippet of your dog-voice, you can bet I’ll host it right here and link to it whenever possible. I hope it’s like baby talk with nonsense words.
When I have that technology (um…), I promise I will. And it will be amazing.
By the way, I wanted to let you know that I have gone back to this post at least 10 times today. I cannot get enough of that face!
You know I immediately wanted to hate them.
But I couldn’t.
And that’s all your fault.
It’s because they look mean, and you have a natural urge to try and make things realize how great you are. I have a feeling you’d like me a thousand times more if I didn’t make it so obvious that I looooooove you.
Ugh, dogs.
They make me anxious.
Kind of like how the thought of meeting you makes me anxious.
Bitch? (I mean that in the nicest way possible.)
Bitch as in dog. As in you.
OH MY GOD THAT SOUNDS BAD. I’m sorry, Katie! I love you!
You’re lucky I’ve met my defriending quota for the month.
You live with, like, 4000 babies, and you’re anxious about dogs? When you yell at dogs, they look at you with sad eyes and then forget about it ten seconds later. When you yell at babies, they grow up to be child molesters.
I’m the least-scary person ever to meet. If I think you’re interesting, I’ll do nothing but interrupt you because I’m dying to make you think I’m interesting, too. And if I think you’re boring, I’ll stand there silently, and it’ll suck for both of us, but at least you’ll know.
Perfect timing! (I promise I’ll get to the point.)
I took Hugs to Petsmart Saturday morning after having her tortured at the vets. I made her get up early AND get the Bordetella vaccine pushed up her nose. Oh she was happy!
Anyways. On the way in to the store she was sniffing the grass to stall and giving me the evil glare of “this better not be a trick!” As Hugs sniffed, I heard a woman trying to get her dog to walk across the parking lot. What was it? A 9-week old baby girl bulldog. Freaking adorable! And suprisingly, more stubborn than Hugs.
It almost makes me want to get a Bulldog as my next dog. Almost.
Just for that, I’m going to keep posting this photo
over and over again until you relent.
Also: I find it hilarious that getting up early is evidently as painful to dogs as it is to humans.
My love for bulldogs is without limits.
Especially the French ones.
In little sweaters! BAH!
ESPECIALLY!
I was reading Craigslist the other day and someone posted about their missing French Bulldog puppy and how it got out under their fence. I’m thinking someone probably stole it because it was so cute rather than it getting out.