Now that I’ve been out of college a few years, Facebook is alerting me regularly, via photo albums, to three common events in people’s lives – engagements, STDs and new dog ownership. Though people’s romantic relationships are often ripe for mockery, the relationship of dogs and their owners is far more ridiculous. Below I examine and ridicule some of the more popular “types” of dog owners.
The Upper East Side Owner (Male)– As a lifelong Upper East side resident, I'm confident in my assertion that those who reside in this neighborhood are hands down the most batshit, crazy dog owners on the planet. The male UESO’s are 100 percent the least respectable samples of dog owning men that NY has to offer. The male UESO shamelessly
walk the toy poodles, Pomeranians, or other yappy cup-sized dogs that their fiancés made them buy. These men like to simultaneously check out women or “do business” on their iPhones to restore some of the masculinity that has been sacrificed while picking up shits that are the size of hamster poop pellets. Newsflash: there’s no way to make
walking a dog that can fit in a coffee mug look masculine.
walk the toy poodles, Pomeranians, or other yappy cup-sized dogs that their fiancés made them buy. These men like to simultaneously check out women or “do business” on their iPhones to restore some of the masculinity that has been sacrificed while picking up shits that are the size of hamster poop pellets. Newsflash: there’s no way to make
walking a dog that can fit in a coffee mug look masculine.
The Upper East Side Owner (Female) – The female UESO’s are somewhat sadder – and come in 2 varieties. There are those who apparently hate their dogs – they talk loudly on their cell phones while walking them, dragging them like unwanted offspring or old garbage. They occasionally do this while holding their child’s hand, ignoring the both of them, which makes the situation even sadder.
There are, alternatively, the ladies who are over-the-top in love with their dogs – these are mostly wealthy ladies whose kids have gone to college, leaving the neurotic mother part of their personalities with no target for their affection/overbearing. These ladies talk to their dogs frequently and ask them questions, apparently expecting a dialogue worthy of “Inside The Actors’ Studio” to come flowing out of their dogs’ yappers. The aforementioned all make me sad to have been raised in the 10021.
The Mean Dog Owners – now I get that I tend to be a little overly friendly with some dogs. I understand that people have bad days at work, PMS, dingleberries in their taints, whatever the case may be. And for those reasons, they do not appear friendly when I (or any other person) try to approach their dogs. But there are some owners who are just plain assholes and I can’t for the life of me understand why a huge dickwad would even have a dog, let alone one that is so cute that it naturally invites attention and doting. If you live in NYC and have a ridiculously cute dog , what would you expect to happen? I am sorry but please, mean dog owner, don’t you dare make me feel badly for wanting to pet your fabulous Bernese Mountain Dog or your adorable bulldog puppy. If you don’t want to interact with people, take your poor dog and your apparently unloved genitalia, and move to Montana.
The Single Woman/Infertile Dog Owners – I almost feel bad including these ladies as a category of “crazies” considering that women have a natural urge to procreate and one’s inability to do so might have a damaging effect on her psyche. However, the havoc these ladies wreak on their dogs is palpable: they look so sad, peering down longingly at the ground from the confines of their owners’ Louis Vuitton purses or from under the brim of the “golfer” hat that the owner made him wear to match her Lacoste shirt. I truly fail to believe that dressing your dog up like a little person and/or carrying him in your purse like a prize is filling the void left by lack of a baby/husband/high quality vibrator.
The Chelsea Gay Owner – For the benefit of our non-New York readers, Chelsea is the area in Manhattan, on the west side below Times Square and above the West Village. It is well known for great clubs, cool restaurants, and inhabited with enough gays to make a homophobic's head explode. The underwear advertisements on the side of phone booths are even fruity; they show gay couples holding each other or partaking in some sort of homosexual activity like chest rubbing or ass patting...quite uncomfortable to walk by if you're a heterosexual male, but I like it. In summary, Chelsea has an extremely gay population, as well as a number of stores that sell only tight button downs, fedoras, and shorts and somehow stay in business. My favorite dog owners in Chelsea are the femme gays who own huge, butch, fierce dogs like pitbulls, Rottweilers, and boxers and they walk them without a bit of irony. I love gays – don’t get me wrong – but honestly, a pitbull? They must enjoy the size of these dogs...members.
The Dog Modelers - These ridiculous owners spend their weekends showcasing their dog in front of a popular lunch spots or street benches. These people literally live vicariously through their dogs. They try to act all cool when people are checking out their dog(s) by gazing off into the distance, smoking cigarettes, or having a cell phone conversation with themselves, all in a attempt to cover up the fact that they feel so "part of the scene" and the center of attention. Too bad it still means going home at the end of the day, grabbing the peanut butter (reduced fat creamy) from middle cupboard, applying a dollop to a sensitive part of the body, and letting old Rufus go to town.
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