We've got this dream that someday we can bring joy to old and sick people as pet therapists. Scratch that. SHE has this dream, that I will entertain old and sick people while she takes the credit, and maybe, just maybe, that will karmically balance all the outfits she puts me in and the off-color jokes she's been known to make. So many outfits. We are going to have to visit a LOT of old people.
So. To achieve HER dream, I have to get over my distaste for other dogs. To that end,we're attending Miss Caroline's Night School for Stoopid Puppeez. If you've been reading along, you know how that's going.
Now, we're doing playgroups. Yesterday, we went to LexiDog Boutique and Social Club. They offer a free Sunday playgroup for dogs of all sizes. I played in the 12-30 pound group.
According to LexiDog's website, "playgroups are a time for you to bring your dog to play with other dogs in a warm, dry indoor environment, while you get to visit with other dog loving humans."
According to reality, French Bulldogs OWN the LexiDog mid-size playgroup. This is good news. The French have such a cool look, like mimes. As you may know, I want a beret so bad, so mom got me to go to this "playgroup" deal suggesting that the French Bulldogs could tell me where to buy a beret in my size. And, you know, maybe give me some tips on growing a tasteful pencil mustache. Tres Francais, I thought.
Not so. Here's what I went through:
Do you see berets? Striped French sailor suits? I do not.
Ppfffffffttttttt ... You smell like beans, monsieur.
Dude. You look like a loaf of bread. Not even French bread.
She smells like bouef bourgingnon. Pretty, too.
The French are insane. Know that.
The French obsession with Jerry Lewis totally makes sense now.
Is that a pencil mustache? No. They're teeth. Wait. You're not even FRENCH!
La femme jolie, avec treats!
"Bonjour? Je suis 'Winston.'"
BTW, they were all named "Winston," as in Churchill or "Sherman" as in tank or "Butch" as in tough little fireplug of a lesbian or "Tulip," you know, 'cause it's ironic. But, they aren't French names. What gives?
I thought the French weren't supposed to be f-a-t. They're hitting le fromage a little hard, n'est pas?
Okay. In fairness, I smell haggis. Maybe I really do smell like beans.
That was my day.
I have to say I like the French (and all the dogs I met at LexiDog) better than puppeez. The LexiDog staff was super nice and I loved their fashion-forward boutique. No berets, but they had sailor suits (I think French) ... for $60! Maybe for my birthday.
Is this Rico's way of shaming this doggie gramma into learning to crochet just so I can make him a darned beret? Yes, I know -- with sequins.
Posted by: Valerie | January 28, 2008 at 05:58 AM
Rico's way of shaming his grammy is to call her directly and commence with the complaining. Rico would like you to crochet him a kicky scarf, yes, but a real FRENCH beret, avec sequins s'il vous plait, is crushed felt ... ooh ooh or ...
VELVET!
Mais oui!
Posted by: Shawna | January 28, 2008 at 07:52 AM
Ma petite - send me his measurements and I will make our sweet boy a beret. Felt is tough, but we can do a lovely velvet. Spike says, "Count me out. I wear things around my neck - never on my head!"
Posted by: Lisa | January 28, 2008 at 09:28 AM
What does one measure for a beret?
His "je-ne-sais-quois?" If so, I'd say, Rico is a large.
Posted by: Shawna | January 28, 2008 at 10:39 AM
Oh, God. This post made my day! Tears rolling down my face, and I'm a little breathless from all the giggles.
(Not only because of my new-baby-induced lack of sleep, but also because, dude. Rico is one funny dawg.)
Posted by: Scooteur | January 29, 2008 at 09:17 AM
If it would make Rico happy, I'd be happy to add a Frenchie named "Bijoux" to the pack. Because I really need another dog.
Just let me know, and I'll get on it.
Posted by: VA | February 03, 2008 at 10:49 AM