As if I didn’t have matters of far greater import to contend with, my old mucker, Karahi’s been bothering me again….
Dog ownership clearly does something fucking odd to the brain. The capacity for rational thought is removed. Fact is that dogs by and large are utterly dependent on their owners, pitifully eager to please and, if you leave them for any period of time, are utterly downcast, if not suicidal.
If your girlfriend was as needy as that you’d show her the door immediately. But for some stupefying reason dog owners think it’s something to be celebrated.
Now me, I don’t mind dogs per se. In fact, until recently when the former Mrs de la P took him away from me along with my treasured collection of Mrs Mills records, I had a labrador who is brighter and more level headed than many humans of my acquaintance.
However, I do take exception to dogs in cities, shitting all over the show and rushing snarling at your kids (or owners who let them shit all over the show and rush snarling at your kids) when you’re down at the park, while their softheaded owner says something asinine like, “He’s only being friendly. He’s quite playful really.”
It is also my considered opinion that owners of certain dogs, usually large, potentially ferocious ones, probably labour under some sort of penile dysfunction.
But I’ll say one thing. No dog has ever asked to borrow money from me, which Karahi does with depressing regularity.