In my journeys across the globe and through life I have come to many trivial conclusions, as one tends to do with the leisurely hours at your disposal in strange countries, for a mere 24 hours at a time. Most of my conclusions and theories are spent on trying to make sense of these wild, wild animals that I serve and that you call homo sapiens. Lend me your patience as I try to demonstrate. Apart from trying to determine someone's value as a person based on the types of shoes they travel in, I also believe that thanks to people’s relationship with pets you can make pretty gross guesses on whether you can trust them with watering the plants, feeding Heidi the hamster, or, well, your life secrets.
If you do not heed to life’s little clues, you run the risk of ending up with proverbial dog excrement on the grassy knoll. So here goes: The first kind is the very obvious Animal Lover (of which there are sub-classifications, such as the overbearing ‘Coddler', the strict ‘Headmaster’, the wise ‘Gandalf’s’, and so the list carries on). They are an alright bunch, sure to help you move to your new apartment, strike up a conversation with strangers and read very smart books. Then there are the Animal Appreciators, who are just a politer version of the Animal Non-Lover (or A.N.L. And excuse the anagrammatical pun, but it fits), the latter of which should not be trusted. They are on the same level of scumminess as people who are always chirpy because they either never ask questions or just choose to ignore the issues. The ice caps are melting, people. The last and noblest bunch of good, honest people is the Besotted-but-allergic Animal Lover (or B.A.A.L., surely worthy of this godlike association). This group is cursed to forever long for the love and affection of our four legged or feathered friends, watching from a distance. Yes, sometimes they’ll give in and with antihistamines on hand, they will bravely face the danger of petting the dog, letting the parrot rest on their shoulder or letting that furry kitten play ball and string with their hand. Oh the sweet revelry. But antihistamines are a costly addiction.
Not to blow my own horn, but I fall under this very worthy last category. So All I want for Christmas is my dog back, and maybe a box of super soft kleenex.
Happy holidays
If you do not heed to life’s little clues, you run the risk of ending up with proverbial dog excrement on the grassy knoll. So here goes: The first kind is the very obvious Animal Lover (of which there are sub-classifications, such as the overbearing ‘Coddler', the strict ‘Headmaster’, the wise ‘Gandalf’s’, and so the list carries on). They are an alright bunch, sure to help you move to your new apartment, strike up a conversation with strangers and read very smart books. Then there are the Animal Appreciators, who are just a politer version of the Animal Non-Lover (or A.N.L. And excuse the anagrammatical pun, but it fits), the latter of which should not be trusted. They are on the same level of scumminess as people who are always chirpy because they either never ask questions or just choose to ignore the issues. The ice caps are melting, people. The last and noblest bunch of good, honest people is the Besotted-but-allergic Animal Lover (or B.A.A.L., surely worthy of this godlike association). This group is cursed to forever long for the love and affection of our four legged or feathered friends, watching from a distance. Yes, sometimes they’ll give in and with antihistamines on hand, they will bravely face the danger of petting the dog, letting the parrot rest on their shoulder or letting that furry kitten play ball and string with their hand. Oh the sweet revelry. But antihistamines are a costly addiction.
Not to blow my own horn, but I fall under this very worthy last category. So All I want for Christmas is my dog back, and maybe a box of super soft kleenex.
Happy holidays
