pet (2005-46)  Photo with no caption Photo with no caption Photo
with no caption Photo with no caption  I am not a pet owner. I’m
not, I swear. If you see me walking a couple of dogs at 10 at
night, don’t be mistaken. They’re not mine.  I have never owned
pets. I have never been shopping for a pet. I have never said to
anyone, “Hey, let’s get a dog.” Or, “Sure, a cat would be good.”
These are sentences I have never pronounced.  I have nothing
against pets. If a dog shows up and seems to need petting, I
usually take care of it. I have nothing against pet owners,
either. I just don’t understand them.  Dogs are touted as man’s
best friend, and maybe they are. But they’ve always seemed a
little shifty to me. Dogs might well be called man’s best friend
among those who poop on the ground. That is, when man is lucky,
dogs poop on the ground. Or man’s best friend who, given an
opportunity, rolls in the decomposing corpses of rodents, or who
snacks on cat litter. Dogs can’t explain to you why they do
those things, but