Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Thoughts On Dogs Without Research

  • They are awesome and the best.
  • Just wanted to state my bias right upfront. This will not be hard-hitting, except in reference to the people next to the dogs. Them, I will be mean to.
  • Dogs used to be wolves, for the evolutionary definition of “used to be.”
  • Packs of wolves probably lived near paleolithic tribes, or followed behind the nomadic ones. They would scavenge the leftovers from the humans or outright steal food or, you know, children.
  • The past was rough, man. No one reading this is in any real danger of being eaten by a wolf tonight.
  • The wolves and the humans probably lived tensely, with intermittent wolf hunts and culls when Og and Tor had had enough of eyes and teeth flashing in the night.
  • One day, one of these wolves remembered an old joke: There are two bulls standing atop a hillside: one old, one young. In the valley is a herd of the prettiest lady cows you’ve ever seen.
  • “C’mon, Pops,” says the young bull. “Let’s run down there and fuck one of those cows!”
  • “Sure, kid. Or, we could walk down there and fuck all of ’em.”
  • And somewhere in Africa or China or Indo-Europe, anywhere from 20-60,000 years ago, a wolf chose to be friendly.
  • Maybe she was pregnant and tired.
  • Cold.
  • Thus started the story of a boy and his dog.
  • Which is, of course, a human story: we did not understand we were making something; once made, we do not understand our own creation.
  • There are actual dog scientists.
  • There is a fancy name for them, which is easily accessed, but cheating on the “no research” thing would just be pathetic.
  • Caninoligists?
  • No, that’s dumb.
  • Anyway, dogs are almost all insane now, but again: our fault.
  • There’s a ton of aesthetic, shape, and size variation in dogs.
  • Again: just like people. Danny Devito and RuPaul are the same species, just as a Pekingese and a Irish wolfhound are.
  • And, just like humans, there are so many different kinds of dogs because of the dog’s affinity for humping.
  • They can’t get enough humping.
  • You can’t blame them–humping’s great–but unlike humans, their humping was being directed from both ends.
  • Smart, hard-working, and healthy dogs were deliberately bred with one another, while less useful dogs had their puppies placed in a sack and thrown in a river.
  • Did you think I was kidding about how awful the past was?
  • Every country or region or whatnot had its own set of dogs. There were dogs for hunting, and ratting, and herding, and protecting the sheep once herded.
  • There were dogs bred just for their eyesight, and others for their noses. They were beefed up for exhibitions and sports that now seem like one of the levels of hell; they were small and fluffy and hung out with rich ladies.
  • The trick is that they did stuff. What they looked like was secondary to the point of irrelevance.
  • (Except, obviously, for the rich lady dogs: they had to be cute.)
  • Enter the Victorians.
  • These fucking people.
  • Inventors of racial classifications (and the scientific blather that always backs it up), Muscular Christianity, the Middle East as we know it today, and neckties, these overdressed and undersexed blushers have fucked up dogs, too.
  • Rich people with nothing better to do besides own India started clubs and started having dog shows.
  • There had always been dog shows, but the dogs did stuff: race, or herd sheep. Again – doing stuff.
  • Not this new show. It was about looks and looks alone, and as with so much of the world under the Victorian’s thumb, the most beautiful hound could be rationally calculated and quantifiably described.
  • This many inches across the chest, shoulders this many inches high, tail at certain angle.
  • They began breeding purely for looks, and purebreeding, too.
  • When people do it, it’s called in-breeding.
  • It ends poorly.
  • Dogs or Hapsburgs: you can’t fuck your sister and expect anything good to come from it.
  • Weird shit pops up. Deeply recessive shit.
  • A good analogy is the Amish, who are just as inbred as any King Charles Cavalier Spaniel.
  • The Amish have something called–this is for real–Maple Syrup Urine Disease.
  • I cannot look up the symptoms, but I think you are smart enough to figure the whole thing out.
  • (The urine becomes like actual maple syrup, not that dyed-brown corn sugar in the racist bottles.)
  • (You know my general displeasure with foodies in general, but real syrup is worth paying more for.)
  • Anyway, MSUD is remarkably recessive, but given that Amish communities might only have three of four last names per thousand people, it pops up.
  • King Charles Spaniels have this thing where their brains are too big for their skulls, which sounds like some bullshit Clive Barker muttered while coming down from a night of drugs and leather.
  • Like the urine thing, the brain thing doesn’t kill you.
  • Nor does it make you stronger in any way.
  • More like constant suffering.
  • A quarter or so of those dogs have the disease (which, I am sure, has a name) and they can’t, you know, tell anyone because they’re, you know, dogs.
  • So because someone wanted a particular-sized, tri-colored hound with blue eyes and enormous floppity ears–form over function–the poor thing wriggles around its  whole life with an itch it can’t scratch.
  • Except times a million.
  • And it’s on the inside of their skulls.
  • Wow, this got dark.
  • Let’s go out on a happy note, man.
  • Jesus.
  • Dogs have many good qualities: they find lost and missing people, guide the blind, assist the disabled, comfort the sick and lonely, and herd our sheep.
  • Dogs have been replaced at a lot of jobs, but they’re always going to herd the sheep.
  • Mostly, though, they hang out with us nowadays.
  • “Good dog” might be the most honest and untainted praise most humans ever give.
  • They’re all good dogs.
  • ‘Cept if they yap.
  • Can’t stand me a yappy dog.

4 Comments

  1. I hugged my stupid yellow dog after I read this. Love that girl.

  2. We just had to put our sweet dog down after 13+ years of companionship. This post couldn’t have come at a better time for me. Thanks, yer honor.

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