My Dog Is a Better Person than Everyone

Everyone thinks that their dog is the best dog in all the pantheon of canine kind, but I’m actually right.  Gigi meets all of the basic qualifications for a dog (cute, loyal, doesn’t pee where she shouldn’t) and goes above and beyond that to be the perfect companion for me.

Here’s why my dog is perfect:

Gigi loves me more than anyone.

She would walk through fire to be close to me.  She cries when I leave her and rejoices when I return.  Given the choice between a chunk of sausage and sitting in my lap, nine times out of ten she’ll choose my lap.  (Hey, I can’t blame her for the one time out of ten she’d choose the sausage.  Sausage is pretty tasty.)


Gigi will eat anything.

Unlike teenaged children who are “starving” but still aren’t sufficiently motivated to eat any of the myriad of choices that are in the refrigerator, Gigi will eat anything that is offered to her.  One notable exception is pork rinds, but I find that to be evidence of her good taste. She never complains.  She never sends a steak back for being too well-done.  And she cleans her plate every time.


Gigi has no shame.

If this picture of her in her “Gikachu” costume isn’t proof enough that she knows no embarrassment, I don’t know what is.


Gigi thinks I’m beautiful.

It doesn’t matter if I’ve been wearing my “sick pajamas” for three days without a shower, haven’t had my brows done in a month, and have the remains of two day’s eye-liner under my eyes; Gigi will look at me adoringly and attack me with sloppy, wiggling kisses.  She worships and adores me like I am the spitting image of Audrey Hepburn.


Gigi loves Starbucks.

This is one way in which she is so totally my dog.  When we go through the drive-through, we order her a “poodle coffee”, which is a tiny squirt of whipped cream in a sample cup.  She licks up every smudge, including whatever gets on her muzzle.


Gigi is trainable.

As an example, if she could, I feel confident that Gigi would put her dishes in the dishwasher.  Not in the sink.  Not on the counter.  Not on the kitchen table.  Putting dishes in the dishwasher seems to be a skill with which all of the humans in my household (other than me) are not blessed.  Gigi will help with cleaning the last bits of food off of any plate.  If she had opposable thumbs, I’m sure she would put them in the dishwasher, too.


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  1. Pingback: The Names Dogs Give Themselves | if i had a blog it would look like this

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