Pet This

I'm going to get into a lot of trouble for this post, so before we even get started, let me make this as clear as possible: I Love Animals. I do. I love dogs, I love cats, I love bunnies. I'm about as pet friendly as you can get.

However, after years of careful study, I have come to one conclusion:

Most pet owners can go to hell.


Now don't get me wrong: I'm not talking about the normal, responsible people who are caring, loving moms & dads to their four legged critters, all while somehow being rational human beings... like Fightin' Mad Mary, who's lovely dog Day-Z is featured above (via Banana Surprise!) To you guys, who have a normal grip on society, I send my heartfelt kudos and all the pet-friendly flea-dip you could ask for! Keep up the good work... You're dismissed.

To the rest of you: Sit. Stay. Heel. If you pay attention, maybe I'll give you a treat. Huh? Would you like that? HUH??? Now sit your tail down and listen up.

You know who you are. You're the ones who say things like "The more time I spend with people, the more I like my pets!" Guess what? It's your fault. And furthermore: Fuck you.

A perfect example of this type of wasted human: The DogLady. We all have them in our neighborhoods. Mine lives directly below me. She's an aging pile of misery whose acting career never took off. Depressed and single because she's too horrible to keep a mate and so she's turned to her puppies for unconditional love. This woman owns anywhere from two-to-twenty yippy little shitdogs that Never Ever Stop Barking Under Any Circumstances Ever. And, since my "luxurious" Hollywood Hills Apartment faces a courtyard, every single noise that anyone or anything makes any time of the day or night is instantly magnified and projected directly into my brain.

And while most of the people who live facing the courtyard are quiet, because they know how to behave, this woman allows her horrible little dogs to roam around in the courtyard where their piercing yelps shatter my brain on a near-constant basis.

It's the perfect antidote to enjoying a quiet weekend at home, or, say, an uninterrupted nights' sleep. My personal favorite is when she joins in the noise chorus and begins to argue with the dogs for hours on end in a misguided attempt to quiet them down, using a high-pitched voice that only encourages her hellions to bark louder and at a higher frequency than before .

I'd complain to the apartment manager except, of course, she happens to be the one who the owns these furry little shit-storms. Twist!

If a non-pet owner dares to ask her to keep the noise down, even after hours upon hours of patiently putting up with it, the DogLady hisses and snaps: "They're dogs, they're just having fun!" Apparently the residents who pay far too much in rent to "live in luxury" aren't allowed to have a moment of peace if God's Creatures want to have a poopenanny. I can guarantee that if I started running around the courtyard screaming and defecating all over everything under the guise of having fun, she'd have something to say about it right quick.

But her precious dogs can do anything they want, and therefore, by extension, she's somehow entitled to the same privileges as well. If her animals get to have poor hygiene and smell bad, then so does she! If they get to have bad attitudes and snap at you for daring to go near them, then so does she! If they get to sniff asses.... well, you get my point.

You see, she's one of Those People who thinks only dogs, and, to a smaller extent other pet owners, are worth her time, which is a problem since she is supposed to be managing a HUGE FUCKING apartment building.

Unfortunately for me, I don't have a pet (other than my roommate, of course.) And, since I ask her to shut the hell up on occasion, that's two strikes against me.

And, as I've said before, I love dogs. And generally they love me. But not her dogs. They can tell I'm not a pet-owner, and therefore, I am the devil. The final straw came last night, when there was a package that had been delivered for me. Here in the Luxurious Hollywood Hills, if there's no one home to take the delivery, the mailman will leave it with Cruella DeVille downstairs so that you can retrieve it later. Despite the presence of shelves designed specifically for holding such things, she had, for some reason, left mine on the floor. Just as my roommate was looking for the package, one of her little angels went right up to it and peed all over the box.

Very professional business you're running here, thank you. Is this why my rent just went up? So that I might enjoy a bonus serving of dog urine with each home delivery I get?

Again, I don't blame the dog. I'm wise enough to know it's the owner who is pure evil. She didn't even apologize for the incident. So for those of you who are like her, take heed and learn from her mistakes. It's not too late to change. Train your dogs and at least treat your neighbors like human beings. Because if you don't change your ways... and you end up old and alone because you chose creatures over people, remember this: When you fall and break your hip, it's people that will help you. And if you can't get a hold of anyone because they all hate you... Your dog's gonna eat your face off.

And then I'm gonna pee on it.