So, apparently having a twelve-year-old is so traumatizing you can't write a blog post for at least two weeks. Or, maybe it was seeing this that sent me screaming into a closet scared of the planet Earth and all humanoid creatures who inhabit it:I know what you're thinking. "A cute widdle pink bike trailer?" Let me clarify. This is not a trailer for putting your darling daughters with Shirley Temple curls in and pulling them down a flower-lined pathway whilst they eat ice cream cones and think happy thoughts. I saw this trailer, being pulled by this bike...The woman driving said bike was wearing, of course, pink biking shorts, pink biking jersey and a pink helmet. Still not enough to cause the trauma I experienced. Stupid? Yes. Matchy? You bet. Ridicilous get-up for a woman pushing 60? Oh yeah. But the kicker, the thing that made me question EVERYTHING in life was what was in the trailer. Her grandchildren? Groceries? Nope. This. This was in her peptopink trailer:
On a leopard print doggie bed. With that exact skirty fruity haircut. Lest you think the poor little creature was disabled in someway, which crossed my mind after I shook off the creeps from seeing Grandma bend over in those shorts, he wasn't. He had a PINK leash which she attached on his PINK bandana and sashayed him down the sidewalk that she parked her 15-foot long contraption in the middle of.
Did I mention we were at a dog park? No? That is because we were NOT at a dog park. We were at a GOLF COURSE. Granted, it wasn't exactly the country club, just a city course, but really? You not only own all this crap to take your dog FOR A BIKE RIDE, you then take him to SUNDAY BRUNCH AT THE GOLF COURSE?
While Rizzo was certainly the most flamboyant, I will add that her and little Fluffy were not the first dogs to attend Sunday Brunch at the Golf Course...we had already been joined by a 150-pound drooling mastiff and a sprite Springer Spaniel who was so Well Behaved that his owner didn't even bother to leash him. At the golf course. At brunch. Good boy!
What. The. Hell. It's gone too far, people. Is it just laid-back Colorado where were take our dogs everywhere? You cannot walk through a Home Depot without having your crotch sniffed. The dudes have come home with dog poop on their shoes from inside the Bass Pro Shop. I've seen giggly twenty-somethings shopping for GROCERIES with a labrador puppy in their cart. And now we take them to brunch. At a golf course. In a pink fricking trailer, because everyone knows, dogs hate to walk. I totally blame PetSmart for giving people the idea that dogs should go shopping. Or maybe Paris Hilton. Yeah, let's blame Paris Hilton, too.
I understand that you love your pets, people. Stay home with them, then. Take them to a park or a lake. Take them on a hike in the mountains! They're just to the west a few minutes. Sure, not as many people will see all your Interesting Canine Gear and Matching Outfits, but I promise you'll have a nice time, and you can put pictures on your Facebook page so everyone will still know that YOU and YOU ALONE are clever enough to own a dog and put a bandana on it.