Left: Jimmy, our Sheltie, looking a bit forlorn
(Toledo, OH) When I was younger I never much cared for the lengths to which people would dress up dogs in sweaters. I thought of the activity as a sort of cheesy, anthropomorphic trait undertaken by pet owners with too much time on their hands.
Moreover, I always owned large dogs, such as my dearly departed Hershey, a chocolate Labrador retriever who was the ultimate in outdoor dogs.
It was thus with a gimlet eye that I observed my wife displaying little outfits that she purchased for our small dogs.
Left: Candy, our Westie mix, seems more comfortable wearing clothes
It took a few weeks, but I have become used to seeing my dogs dressed up in goofy dog clothes. I am still more likely to take them off the dogs when no one is looking, but I no longer have the scoffing, anti-bourgeois attitude I once held toward pet clothing.
But if designer dog clothes show up in this house, I am going to raise some serious hell. No dog of mine is going to be a walking advertisement for abject, Las Vegas-like commercialism, or suggesting that people visit websites offering information on Las Vegas real estate.
I have standards, and I there are certain lines I will not cross, although I am thankful that this post has been sponsored. Harumph!
That is, unless I could take the dogs to Las Vegas and get them a gig at one of the casinos, competing with the likes of David Copperfield and Celine Dion for a spot on the strip. Yes, my dogs could garner quite a following at places like Harrah's, the Tropicana, or the Mirage.
Yes, the dogs and I could march down the strip, fighting off Las Vegas paparazzi while sipping those drinks with the little umbrellas in them. Of course, they would be doggie cocktails, and I gave up booze years ago, but we would still be living the high life, Vegas-style.