I had no idea my dog is racist. It just doesn’t fit in with all of her other attributes….crapping only on Republican’s lawns….curling up with a Mother Jones on the couch…befriending strangers on the other side of the street even when a car is coming because she is willing to take risks and stick her neck out there to make any passerby a friend.
But today, she showed her true colors. It was so obvious, too, that I was embarrassed, but to cover up my embarrassment, I nervously joked about it. “Where did she learn that? ha ha ha. Has she been watching FOX News while I’m out?” And stuff like that.
The owner tried to blame it on the size of his very large black dog when Maggie refused to play with him but when a blue-eyed, white dog, the same size as Maggie approached her she was all, “What kind of biscuits do you get? I get milkbones!” and exchanging business cards via the customary ass-sniff, even volunteering her ass which she usually doesn’t do. She usually tucks her tail down and says, “Hey, Mister, not so fast! I’m a proper lady, here.”
But not today. Not with whitey. It was awkward. We all tried to say she is “sizist” not “racist” but as white as that little dog was, the large dog was black. What could I do as the responsible dog owner but go straight home, put her in time out for a few minutes, and then teach her the basics.
I held her fuzzy little body close to mine and sweet talked her the way she likes it, to let her know I still love her. I had her full attention when she heard my hand rummaging around in the biscuit box, a distinct sound that she can hear from a dead sleep. I did it right in front of her.
I carried her over to the poster of Barack Obama in our living room. The one where the artist is getting sued for making that illustration from a photo in this great sue happy country of ours where the only thing that isn’t copyrighted is the Constitution. I said, “Maggie. See him? Good man, Maggie. Good man.” And I gave her half of the milkbone so she would make the connection.
Then I brought her over to the computer and showed her a picture of Ann Coulter and said, “Bad white woman, Maggie. Baaad white.” And I didn’t give her the other half of the milkbone.
They don’t tell you any of this in the dog training books at the library but one day I’ll write my own. This elite information is probably only discussed in the advanced training manuals to which only breeders and veterinarians are privy, the way the real wrinkle-erase face creams are only available to licensed estheticians, who are hoarding all the beauty for themselves, while the rest of us are applying wrinkle-erase knock offs made of the same oils and solvents that are used to remove rust from bridges that the sandblaster was unable to put a dent in.
The only reason no one has caught on is that the people most concerned with wrinkles aren’t in the bridge rust-removal profession. In fact, these two types of people have nothing in common. There is no reason for their paths to ever cross, unless she were to get a flat tire in a bridge construction zone, put on her oversized Ray-Bans, climb out of her Volvo station wagon that can drive itself if she has too much to drink at lunch, and ask a rust-covered sandblaster to give a lady a hand while she wraps up her cell phone call to her tennis partner, Collette.
So if it weren’t for me and my ADD-wandering mind, that leaps from PTO tennis moms on cell phones while driving under a bridge that’s under road construction while the song on the radio intersecting with these notable thoughts is “pretty women out walking with gorillas down my street…,” where would you be? Still trying to put two and two together, that’s where. And trying to figure out how this blog took a turn from racist dogs to stranded women on the road to discovering her wrinkle cream is crap.
But I’ll tell you how. Your dog told you to click on this link. Right after you gave him sixteen milkbones. Who’s in charge now!!???
Subscribe to the
RSS feed or 
Email Updates.Help us promote this article by bookmarking it to your favorite social network via an icon below:
My cousin has a racist dog, it bit a black person’s fingure off. He was trrying to break into her house but the dog def doesn’t like black people !!
had to stumble this one. Hilarious
Learn from Jessica, peeps! Thanks, Jess!!
Loved it! Especially the part about the dog choosing whose lawns to leave her decorations on…..dogs are smarter than we think they are. You can walk your dog in my neighborhood anytime!
Bwahahahahhaha! ok this is the best blog of the year hands downs….
I have whiplash!
Antidote: Run all the appliances in your home, turn on the radio, both televisions and talk on the phone while Twittering what you had for lunch.