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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