(livejournal, 18 September 2003)
On the way to the subway this morning, Velma spotted a sign that advertised a Dog Costuming Contest. I groaned (predictably). I said I supposed it would be a kindness to tell Eleanor. (It's on Saturday, Ellie, at a street fair on Sixth Avenue between 12th and 13th streets in the Slope. 2:00 PM.) Velma allowed as how she thought she could put up with it for Ellie's sake. Great creeping sowbugs, I said, I didn't say we were going. Just telling her. There are limits to friendship. Even if I didn't shudder at the idea of so much cuteness and cooing -- I shuddered -- I feel too much empathy for the dogs.
Velma said, well, at least it wasn't cats. Oh no, I said, I feel worse for dogs. Cats, sure, it's an insult to their pride, but dogs trust you. Put a pair of deer antlers on a cat, and it'll go, "What? Hey! Knock it off! Look, I am not wearing that! What do you think I am? All right, you're bigger than me, I get it. Oh, you are so going to pay for this. Sheets, couch, books, record albums, you'd better not take your eyes off of anything, it is so toast. You suck."
But not a dog: "Hey, what? This is new. Is it a toy? Hey! That's kind of uncomfortable. Is it good for me? What's so funny? Lemme see.... I... I don't know. Are you sure? I mean.... Have I been bad? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm sure I deserve this.... Sigh. You... you know best. I can take it.... When this is over, I promise I'll be the best dog ever."
Okay, this is seriously good writing. Welcome further back, compadre!
Scraps
Thanks! But that's not new writing, unfortunately. It's from 2003. (Dated at the top.)