Meet our new canine overlords
Lets be clear at the outset.
I own a dog, a partially blind 13-year-old bitser, so I write this with love.
(I also play host to an annoying cat but that's a whole other bum full of worms.)
For the past 15,000 years we have lived with domesticated dogs hanging around our camp fires and smart phones, warning us of strangers, guarding the perimeter and eating all the scraps we threw at them. Fair enough.
Over the millennia we got to like our dogs a whole lot more than many of our fellow humans.
Here in Australia we spend on average just over $600 a year to feed our mutts- much cheaper than having a kid (calm down I have a couple of them too).
But is it going too far now? Are we too doggie-centric. Is there anywhere we won't take our dogs?
Have we created a new scourge for ourselves- the over pampered pooches of Byron Shire.
Gone are the trustworthy mongrels we used to have around the place, faithful to the end, hanging around the back yard, towing us along on our skateboards, strategically mangling our homework, chasing cars and biting that annoying kiddie who pushed it just that bit too far.
Now there's a whole new breed of bitches and dogs running our lives.
For instance there is a dog called Boo the Pomeranian on Instagram with 3.9 million followers. Just last week a Papillon (whatever that is ) called Dylan was crowned best in show at Crufts.
Why? As far as I can ascertain neither of these dogs has been a space pioneer (like poor ill-fated Laika), nor have either of them rescued any kiddies from a burning wind mill like Lassie did, nor are they standing on any tucker boxes inspiring a nation with their stoicism.
They are just ornamental dogs, lifestyle accessories if you will, lolling under cafe tables, strolling casually through our myriad home decoration boutiques casting a jaundiced doggie eye over the mass produced bespoke knick knacks.
Some of these dogs are so sensitive and rarefied they cannot and must not be left alone at home with a bowl of water and some NO NAME kibble, they must now accompany us to work.
Meet the new poochie work based status symbol, many with dietary requirements so specific they would reduce even Pete Evans to tears.
These dogs are so special they can take a dump or barf where ever they please. (You know who you are.)
Their owners somehow inexplicably manage to not see this happening, suffering as they do from canine faecal myopia.
When my dog logs on and down loads I'm always standing by, ready to bag and tag the evidence.
Back in the day we got our dog at the pound by selecting the least bitey looking flea bag- who could find them selves right back there, facing a syringe full of green dream, if they didn't fit in with their new human pack.
These pure bred uber-dogs can cost many thousands of dollars, but only after the prospective owner has been on a waiting list longer than the gestation period of the average human being.
It's poochie political correctness gone mad.
Are dogs people now?
Or should I go fetch another opinion?