Aren’t dogs wonderful? I love dogs. I was going to say ‘I love dogs as much as the next person’ but this is a bit of an understatement. Truthfully speaking, I probably love dogs MORE than the next person, and I probably love dogs more than people.
Dogs are so simple. So easily amused. Happy for small reasons. Never depressed; unless they can’t find their favourite toy.
There are lots of reasons to love dogs.
There are even lots of reasons to admire the simple pleasures of a dog’s life.
BUT IT STOPS THERE, OKAY?
Someone didn’t get the memo. Out crawls the most recent in a flood full of degenerate ‘it’s-not-my-fault-I-was-abused’ freakazoids. Wow. How these people get from A to B in their mind absolutely confounds me.
Before I get into the beef I have with dog-people, I just have to sideline for a moment and clarify something:
YOUR HISTORY DOESN’T DEFINE YOU.
I am an avid/crazy/obsessed supporter of this motto. Here’s why:
I believe that every single one of us is unique; that every person in the world has an essence; a bit like a perfume that eh…smells like you and no one else. I apologise for the terrible analogy; it popped into my head as soon as I wrote the word ‘essence’.
Today, identity is talked about a lot. ‘I need to find my own identity’, ‘I need to express my identity’, ‘I lost my sense of self’, etc.
When people think of what constitutes identity, they usually think of this:
Nature versus Nurture
Nature is the genetic side of you; the DNA, helixes, all that gloopy stuff.
Nurture is the environment you find yourself in: ghetto, palace, farm; wherever. It’s also about your role models and relationships.
The reason that nature versus nurture has become the vogue debate surrounding identity is because the essence-of-a-person philosophy is a pretty boring/unpopular idea. It’s just not exciting enough: if we are who we are, then how can we make excuses for our dumb decisions, right? Proposing an identity composed of nature/nurture allows us to avoid accountability for our actions. The nature/nurture model gives us the freedom to say things like:
I DID THAT BAD THING BECAUSE MY FAMILY MEMBER DID BAD THINGS TO ME
I CUT THAT GIRL INTO PIECES BECAUSE I HAVE SERIAL KILLER GENES
I HATE MEN BECAUSE THIS ONE MAN CHEATED ON ME THIRTY YEARS AGO
See what I mean? Cramming identity into little boxes like this allows us to write off our screw-ups much more persuasively.
GUESS WHAT THOUGH:
I am living proof that there is something else that determines who we are. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with nature or nurture.
I know, I know.
That sounds incredibly obnoxious/arrogant/know-it-all.
Well, let me explain:
I am a genetically identical twin.
Me and my sister came out of the same womb, had the same genes, had the exact same environment, and yet; we are RADICALLY different. We lived the same life, experienced the same things, and came out of it all with two entirely conflicting worldviews. I could now elaborate on the differences between us for the nosy people out there, but nah. Let’s just say we’re like chalk and…potatoes.
I am genuinely fascinated by the thought of an identity model that exists outside of genes and environment. First and foremost, it allows for a much greater complexity of what it means to be human. Those who have bad genes and a bad environment can rise above; likewise, rich, educated people with pearly-white teeth can spiral to the deepest pits of depravity. It allows for accountability when we look at it this way, because it is the essence of a person that affects their choices. To me, this is much more interesting than a person’s successes or failures being chalked up to their family history or living conditions.
Which brings me back, in a very roundabout way, to why I have a beef with dog-people:
Dog-people are a horrible reminder of how horribly horrible humans can be.
If you have never heard of dog-people, take a minute to watch this clip. It will tell you everything you ever needed to know about this unusual subculture.
When I say unusual, I mean freaky-as-fudge.
Let’s start with the ridiculous outfit. If you’re going to uproot your life and destroy all of your personal relationships, at least use a costume with hair. At least try to remotely resemble a cute canine as opposed to a burn victim going trick-or-treating in a plastic mask. The guy in the clip is like an extra from a bestiality-porn site and he wants people to pet him and give him a bone? I think I’ll pass.
My next point of outrage is the immaturity and lack of character of the kind of weakling that feels the need to abandon all normality in order to be pampered. Life is stressful, imperfect. Work can be boring. Family and friends can be annoying. This doesn’t mean you get to pack it all in and decide to be a dog. You’re not a five year old playing pretend; you’re a grown adult who obviously has some serious issues. And no, you don’t get to blame it all on your past either. These are your dumb choices. Playing pup is your inconsiderate way of opting out. People like this never give a crap about anyone else. It’s all about how they feel; their happiness, their fulfillment. Feck everyone else.
Side-note again: This is what pesky humans do. Instead of admitting they’re a weakling/freak/can’t handle life, they go and find other freaks and make a club out of their depravity. It’s a sure-fire way to reassure yourself that you’re doing OK, that there are others like you. Surely you can’t be that freaky if you know others who do the same freaky things you do, right?
A FREAK IS A FREAK IS A FREAK.
Here is a mathematical equation to represent a freak:
Yeah. Einstein was my great-great-great-grandfather-three-times-removed.
I don’t care if there are a million dog-people in hiding all over the world. Hiding in kennels (couldn’t resist).
There could be five dog-people, five hundred, five million.
You’re all freaks. What kind of self-centred egomaniac has the audacity to tell their loved ones ‘I’ve decided to give up the ol’ nine to five and become a dog.’
That brings me to the most infuriating aspect of dog-people and other freaks who have some sort of psychological mid-life crisis.
It’s obvious: your transformation isn’t authentic, it’s a get-out clause. If it was, you would’ve done it long ago. I see right through you. You are a coward.
Referring back to the clip again, the worst thing about the whole crazy situation is the impact this man’s selfishness has on his fiancee. I mean ex-fiancee. That’s right, they were in love, going to get married; then one day he sits her down and tells her ‘I’ve decided I’m going to live life as a dog. Oh, and by the way, I have this handler person and we have this special relationship.’
Let me just translate this into what he’s REALLY saying but doesn’t have the balls to:
‘Honey, I’m just not that into you, but I’m a coward and I hate to face up to responsibility. I’m not really liking my life the way it is, and I’m going through a phase. I’ve always really liked dogs. I know these weirdos who dress up as them. I’m going to try it out. Oh and by the way, I’ve kind of started seeing someone else. Oh and…can we still be friends? I need someone to clean up my poo and fill my water bowl.’
There. That’s what he’s REALLY saying. Selfish asshole.