Megan Stielstra's Blog

So, everywhere we go, people stop us to ask about the dog. What kind of dog, how old is the dog, where'd you get the dog, etc. Our friend Patrick asked if we were annoyed by this.

ME: I think people just want an excuse to communicate. No one's comfortable appraching another person for simple or obvious reasons, like 'hello, you seem interesting' or 'I feel lonely today and am in need of human interaction', and a dog gives someone an IN, a conversation starter, although perhaps I'm just very naive and these people are hitting on me. It's true I've never been asked out more in my life since getting the dog. I remember, when I was single, my friend Jeff and I trying to figure out a place to meet men that wasn't a bar. Shit, we should've borrowed a puppy and gone to the dog park. Overall, though, I don't mind people asking about Mojo because it gives me an opportunity to talk about local shelters and petfinder.com and hopefully influence people to adopt instead of going to a breeder. So maybe in that way I can do some good.

CHRISTOPHER: Yes, it annoys the hell out of me.

So, yesterday we were at the pet store. There, not only does everybody ASK about the dog, they think it's okay to TOUCH the dog. To pet him and sit him and, in some cases, PICK HIM UP. Okay: my dog is twenty-eight pounds. That's too big for cutsey picking up. Second, he's MY DOG. Asking me about him is fine, but while you're asking, ask if it's okay to touch him. I don't know you or where you've been. Keep your hands off my boy without permission. Third: he could be a violent attack dog. Instruct your kids to ASK before they TOUCH. That's just common sense. And then, yesterday, this random woman TAKES a squeaky hedgehog OFF the shelf and gives it, twelve dollar salestag and all, to Mojo ("Play with this, puppy!") and he lays happily down on the linoleum and goes to town on it before I even turn around. So now, sitting in my living room as Mojo chews that verysame hedgehog (it makes a grunty, burpy sound when it squeaks which is actually much more soothing than the stuffed pig somebody gave him as a present, whose squeak was of the high-pitched grate-on-your-nerves variety), I wonder, did I buy it because A. he loved it B. he'd already gotten it all Mojo-chewy so I felt obligated or C. that random woman was really a secret consumer mole whose job it is to give animals toys of her particular brand name so unsuspecting yet loving dog owners such as myself will whip out the credit card? If A, then fine. I love my dog. B is more complex: my folks raised me on "You break it, You buy it"; however, maybe that LADY should've bought my dog the friggin' hedgehog if she's gonna go putting it between his teeth while I'm looking at dental bones and C. C! stinks of Red States and marketing strategies and big business and stuff I try to steer clear of. So please, please, please keep your corporate shenanigans away from my puppy. It'll be hard enough when I've got a CHILD: let's keep the dog pure, shall we?

(and, for a dramatic finale, Mojo finds the sweet spot on the hedgehog: burp. burp. burp)