My dog
Sunday, April 8, on the TV at BK they were showing the Beverly Hills Dog Show.
(This was a feature of NBC Sports?! The webpage is beyond belief.)
Took me a while to figure out: this is a beauty contest for dogs.
Don’t get me wrong: I enjoy watching pretty women as much as anyone else. But they rate and judge these animals by stringent criteria I’d never accept being applied to a human being.
The feet must be well-formed. For some reason, they have to lift up every one’s tail. They cannot run at an angle; that is, when they run, the spine must exactly align with the direction of motion.
It’s not my dog’s job to look nice — to be an object. My dog’s job is to be a companion and playmate. Of all the dogs in the world, my dog is the only one who is — this — dog. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone treat it as an object.
No one needs to be “best in show.” Each one has his or her own way to shine.
(I don’t currently have a dog. When I become un-homeless, I hope to have a cat instead. But in my childhood, we had dogs in the home.)
Related: Two Jews, three opinions
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