The following techniques which I used to select and acquire Lupe, my perfect puppy, are admittedly unorthodox and may not be for everyone. Nevertheless, I find it difficult to argue with proven success. I wish only the best to anyone intent upon finding their own perfect puppy, and share my methods with the hope they may prove both enlightening and helpful. However, I leave it to you to judge the suitability of these methods in your own situation. – SPHP
Actually, it was remarkably easy for me to choose Lupe, my perfect puppy and best friend now for over 4 years. I used a simple 3-Step program:
(1) Get married.
(2) Subscribe to cable TV.
(3) Wait a very long time.* (*as in years)
All 3 steps were essential to my success. For, you see, I had no intention of ever getting a puppy. I had never had a dog in my whole life. I had always been a cat person. The thought of getting a dog never entered my mind.
Our family has always had cats. Cats are beautiful and generally undemanding creatures, if you regularly feed them the one and only food in the whole world they ultimately decide they are willing to accept. It’s soothing when they purr. Their fur is soft and fun to stroke, until they get tired of it and decide to slash you. Cats can be amusing and fun to play with, but seldom play for long, leaving you free to move on to other activities. Cats are not as needy as dogs. Their air of quiet superiority and independence is an admirable trait, if you want a companion who doesn’t demand too much of you. I still love cats.
My nephew Ryan cites a joke he once read demonstrating the differences between dogs and cats. It reads like maybe it’s from an old Far Side cartoon. The joke consists of samples from the diary of a dog and the diary of a cat:
Dog’s diary:
Day 1 – Today we went to the park. I barked at squirrels! My favorite thing!
Day 2 – Today we played ball. I ran away with the ball! My favorite thing!
Day 3 – Today we went for a ride in the car. I hung my head out the window in the wind! My favorite thing!
Day 4 – Today we went hunting. I chased pheasants! My favorite thing!
Cat’s diary:
Day 1437 of Captivity – Last night I hunted down a field mouse, ripped open its belly and ate its head. I left the bloody entrails in the hall to show them what I am capable of. Tomorrow I plan to weave between their legs at the top of the stairs…..
So anyway, after completing Steps 1 & 2 above, eventually (see Step 3) my spouse took to watching shows on cable TV that seldom interested me, but which we still sometimes watched together. On occasion these shows provided me with a certain degree of amusement, although of a form different from that intended by the producers. I found cable TV to be a source of insight into our constantly evolving culture. Cable TV was showing me how much the world is changing.
History used to be about the rise and fall of nations, wars and economics, great leaders and social movements, exploration and scientific discoveries. Or at least I thought it was. However, we had the History Channel, which made it clear that history now has virtually nothing to do with any of these things. Instead, history is about Ice Road Truckers – diehard rednecks who attempt to disprove global warming theories by driving heavily laden semi-trucks across (hopefully) still frozen remote rivers in the Yukon or Alaska, or better yet, some part of the Arctic Ocean.
On the History Channel, you could also learn about “Ancient Aliens” – highly advanced space travelers who have visited earth over thousands of years to help ancient peoples build all kinds of mysterious and once (perhaps still?) powerful structures, but nothing so practical as a McDonald’s hamburger stand. Presumably only a massive ongoing US government cover-up spanning decades has been able to conceal the astonishing truth about these visitors from space and the global extent of their activities.
Of course, the History Channel just scratched the surface of the possibilities for unusual and unique programming destined to dominate the cable waves. There were shows about “Bridezillas” (flee for your life young man!); shows where people weep and wail because they need to clean their house and might have to get rid of a fraction of the mountain of belongings they literally walked on every day because it was all “put away” in gigantic heaps strewn over all the furniture and floors throughout their entire home; still more shows featured night vision gear and all manner of scientific instruments you can use to detect ghosts which, as it turns out, are virtually everywhere. And so it goes, channel after channel, as though the National Enquirer has achieved full control of the entire cable TV industry.
One of the cable TV shows my spouse started watching was about dogs and “dog whisperers”. Typical of this channel were stories about rich neurotic women living in Manhattan skyscrapers, who had little to do in life other than spoil their cutesy little lap dogs. They did things like throw birthday parties in their luxury apartments for “Fifi” where they would invite 15 or 20 other women and their yapping little dogs over to wear costumes, eat cake and lap up champagne.
When the whole birthday party fiasco was over, the hostess would tearfully hire a highly paid “dog whisperer” to learn why Fifi snapped viciously at her doggie guests, went wee-wee on the cake, bit the high-powered attorney’s wife’s ankles causing her to curse and bleed profusely, and in general did not seem to enjoy herself as anticipated. Naturally the “dog whisperer” was always ready with all kinds of helpful advice on dog psychology, training and discipline certain to restore doggie control, happiness and tranquility until the next episode.
(I was always interested in seeing the sequel to these shows where the woman’s Wall Street investment banker husband arrived home from work only to be horrified to learn what had just happened. I wanted to see how he managed to get himself out of this fix regarding the high-powered attorney’s wife’s bloody ankles, but apparently the channel carrying the “Attorney Whisperer” is a premium channel I never subscribed to. It’s a pity, for you never know when, due to some sudden unexpected tragedy resulting in personal liability, you might really need an attorney whisperer.)
The upshot of all this was that one day in early January 2011, seemingly out of the blue (but not actually, as my 3-Step program had been long at work), my spouse asked me what I thought about getting a puppy.
My reaction was instant, and I quickly made the following extraordinarily valid objections:
- We did not need, and I did not want a puppy.
- A puppy would have to be house-broken, and would poop and pee on everything until it was.
- A puppy would chew up everything not out of reach.
- Our old cat would be scared to death. It would be cruel to subject a very old cat to such treatment.
- We did not have a fenced yard to keep the puppy in where it could run and play.
- Dogs are typically larger, eat a lot more than cats, and would cost more to sustain. There would be the usual vet bills. We didn’t need these unnecessary expenses.
- Dogs are much more active and social animals than cats. They need attention and get bored easily. Someone would have to at least walk the dog every day. I certainly didn’t want to do it.
- Once the cat was gone, which couldn’t be too far off in the future, we would have one less thing to worry about whenever we wanted to travel. We would be pet free.
- The puppy would bark and annoy all our good neighbors.
After this fine, exceptionally persuasive speech, there was no more discussion. Not a peep. It was settled. No puppy for us. Until 6:30 AM on February 11, 2011 when heading out the door on the way to work, my spouse said, “I’m picking up the puppy tonight!”
Easy 3-Step plan complete!
This dingo tale continues with the post: My Perfect Puppy – The Arrival of Lupe
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