Dog Manifesto

I’ve had my dog Skye for about three years now, and in those three years, she has transformed dramatically from the girl I thought she was to the girl she is. To wit: when she first came to live with me, the voice I gave to her had a polite Asian accent. She is a Japanese breed, and was somewhat shy, so I felt like this was a good fit. Now, however, her voice is that of a Jersey City housewife. Never satisfied, always screeching, and two breaths away from losing it.

Along with this change, I have also long felt that Skye has been making Big Plans in her head for how things are going to shake out….when the time is right. How can I tell she’s making big plans? Well, mostly because of the way I find her staring at me sometimes, like she is mentally sharpening two very large knives. This occurs mostly when I am leaving the house, and she believes she is entitled to join me, or when I am eating something delicious and not sharing. By the way, I find that extremely rude. I let her enjoy her dog food in total peace, why can’t I eat my tater tots the same way?

So anyway, if Skye were ever able to articulate her Grand Scheme, I feel like here’s what it would say:

“Dogs of the world, now is a time for action. Too long have we been subjected to bad cuisine, sitting in the back seat, and watching the world on a leash. I make the following proposal to get our place at the dinner table, the boardroom table, and that table by the front window that’s too tall for me to jump on:

1. We must learn how to type. Now, it’s silly to think that we’re ever going to get our thumbs back. That train has already passed, evolution-wise. But, by golly, God didn’t give us pointy noses for nothing, so let’s use ‘em.

2. We should probably learn some basic computer skills, or how to roll paper into those rolly things on typewriters. And we should figure out what Ctrl+Alt+Delete stands for. That seems to be an important one.

3. Also: does anyone have a Twitter account? If not, we should get someone to set one up.

4. And think of some really clever hashtags. I was thinking #Petthismuthafucka or #Azzsniffers. Something edgy to let people know we mean business.

5. Okay, so once we learn how to use computers and how to tweet our way into awareness (Tumblr account, too? Check into this) it’s time for us to free ourselves from the soft life that most of us have led. This will take sacrifice on all of our parts. Especially this part: we can no longer hang our heads out car windows. We can’t let the humans see us as tongue-flappers who are satisfied by a mere breeze in our face. And for God’s sake, seatbelts save lives. Wear ‘em!

6. It would be helpful if we learned how to drive cars. At least some of us, preferably the big ones like Great Danes and Irish Wolfhounds. Try to keep this secret from the English Sheepdogs, however, because I, for one, would not want to be a passenger in a car driven by one of them. They can’t even see, and I certainly don’t want to put my hands on a steering wheel after they’ve slobbered all over it.

7. Speaking of bodily functions: can we show a little decorum? No one’s ever going to take us seriously if we eat our own poop. If you must, do it in private.

8. Back to brass tacks: we have communication, we have transportation, now it’s time for liberation. Who knows how to slip a collar? Once we get our basic computer skills up to snuff, let’s set up a ListServe that will allow us to talk about ways to deal with the buckled menace. Oh, and if anyone knows how those little cards work that humans use to buy stuff, that might be helpful, too.

9. Eyeglasses. We need them. Also: pipes and hats. The humans are easily deceived by dogs wearing eyeglass, pipes, hats, and carrying newspapers. We can get anything accomplished RIGHT UNDER THEIR NOSES if we have these basic tools of disguise.

10. Last but hardest for many of you, you will have to say goodbye to your humans. Give them a final lick of the face or sniff of the crotch – whatever you do – and pack one of those little bandana bags that go on the end of a stick. Find your way to the nearest off-leash dog park, and meet your destiny. We will plan further from there.

11. Oh, and bring some pepperoni.