Thursday, July 23, 2009

Poodle Bitch Has to Wonder About the New York Times


Poodle Bitch will not come out from under the bed until she's had her free range grilled chicken.

Poodle Bitch has a fairly high tolerance for the absurd. But even she was rather surprised to discover this column in the New York Times.

"The Puppy Diaries" is one woman's story of the death of her beloved West Highland terrier called Buddy, and the adoption of a new English standard golden retriever named Scout. It is also one woman's precious story of how wonderful and affluent she is.

My two children, who grew up with him but flew the nest years before his demise, joked that Buddy was my one perfect relationship in life. I spoiled him, terribly. Houseguests often awoke to the aroma of my grilling free-range chicken for Buddy.


Poodle Bitch would like to note first of all just how lucky are the author's children. She would then like to consider the New York Times' audience. Poodle Bitch was given to understand that humans were going through a recession. These are tough times, she has been told, and it's necessary to make sacrifices. She has even heard on NPR that some humans are giving up their dogs, because they haven't enough money to keep them.

Is the average reader of the New York Times so immune from the vagaries of everyday existence that he can nod his head in knowing approval at the image of someone grilling free-range chicken for her dog? Or does the New York Times believe it is providing a service to its less affluent readers, allowing them a peek inside the life of someone grilling free-range chicken for her dog?

Poodle Bitch has to wonder why it is that the author did not mention the name of the company that manufactured the grill. She is certain it must be one of those free range grilling companies.

The author details how she waited two years following the death of the free-range chicken eating Buddy before deciding to adopt another canine companion. Her epiphany is described thus:

But this spring I was overcome by puppy lust, looking at all the cute, companionable dogs on the sidewalks of Lower Manhattan.


Poodle Bitch wonders if perhaps the author is one of the more than 9.3% unemployed in New York City, that she has so much free time as to stand around lusting after puppy dogs on the sidewalks of Lower Manhattan. Poodle Bitch would also like to note that she considers herself attractive, but is made to feel uncomfortable when older humans stand around "lusting" after her.

But after all that lusting, the author is not put on any type of dog predator list. Instead, she wonders what puppy she should adopt:

If we adopted a dog from a shelter, as my sister has done twice, we would be taking the more virtuous, good-for-animals (and society) route. Saving a dog that needs a home or had been mistreated by a previous owner is an unselfish act. But we were leaning selfish.


Poodle Bitch is shocked. Any woman who grills for her dog free-range chicken is in no way selfish. As far as Poodle Bitch is concerned, that is the action of someone who is "attentive." And the author would agree with that assessment, as she herself helpfully provides examples of just how attentive she is to her new family member:

It’s not only the made-up games, the hide-and-seek and stuffed animals. There is the special puppy smell, much like the distinctive scent, better than perfume, of a new baby’s head. There is the reflexive urge to smother with kisses. There is the getting up in the middle of the night. There is the singing of lullabies to sleep, lying next to Scout’s crate as if it were a cradle. There is the arrangement of play dates for socialization. (My husband, who is doing the lion’s share of the work these first weeks, jokes that the high point of his day is the 4 p.m. play date with Cyon, our friends’ older golden.) There are the books written by experts (our puppy manual is by the Monks of New Skete). There is the feeling of total relief in seeing tired eyes close for a nap.


Yes, Poodle Bitch fondly remembers her own puppyhood, when her human companion sang her lullabies (actually, it was Death Cab for Cutie songs) and anxiously fretted over her as she fell asleep in bed (Poodle Bitch's own human companion never forced her to sleep in a crate). Unfortunately, Poodle Bitch missed out on the no-doubt wonderful puppy manual written by the Monks of New Skete. (Poodle Bitch would like to observe that "dog" is merely "god" spelled backwards, so who better to offer guidance than a "contemplative monastic community of men and women dedicated to living the monastic life together within the tradition of the Eastern Orthodox Church.") Perhaps she would be better behaved if her human companion had used that particular book.

But Poodle Bitch has to wonder about the author's husband. He "jokes" that the high point of his day is when he gets away from her and takes their new puppy to his "play dates" with another friends' dog. Could there be trouble in the idyllic free-range chicken grilling paradise described in the column?

The column's punchline is actually contained in its first sentence:

This is the first article in a weekly series about the challenges and satisfactions of raising a puppy through its first year of life.


Poodle Bitch truly feels nothing but envy for the readers of the New York Times. This is going to be an exciting and absolutely adorable 52 weeks for them!

6 comments:

Melissa said...

Is Poodle Bitch envious of the free-range chicken?

shampoo said...

omfg, I can't believe you didn't cancel your subscription. although poodle bitch did give you a lot of pointers on whatall was wrong with the crazy delusional bitchass woman.

if one lives in a city what is one going to do with a golden RETRIEVER? I think a lot of people aren't able to feed their dogs because they have dogs that eat a lot.

I used to have a terrapoo. now I have a bunny.

Ricky Sprague said...

"Envy" is a human ailment- Poodle Bitch is happy to report she is immune.

shampoo said...

poodles are cute. they are smart, too. my terrapoo was smart.

I have a big problem with any and all major media projects chronicling mundane things. especially if that woman is writing it. lots of people have raised a puppy for a year and lots of people spoil their pets. the lengthy details of the spoiling of this poor hunting dog trapped in a manhattan apartment with a deranged woman are no more fascinating than some poor person taking their dog outside and throwing a stick for it. well, except "scout" would envy the dog who was getting to run and retrieve.

I think poodle bitch is onto something about the husband's favorite time of day when he can spend time with the owner of the other golden retriever. no surprise. this wackadoodle woman's kids probably cheat with other moms.

as for pound versus breeder... this woman should just fess up. she saw that movie about the golden retriever and wanted one. she couldn't bear the thought of hers not being golden enough so she went to a breeder. she probably cuddles with scout's papers.

my friend's mom has a spoiled rotten beagle. it has decided the middle of the kitchen floor is a wonderful place for a bowel movement. it looks like human excrement from a good sized man. I imagine the leavings of a golden retriever could only be worse. hehehehe

Ricky Sprague said...

Poodle Bitch appreciates your comments, shampoo.

Poodle Bitch would also like to point out that the author of the column is a managing editor of the New York Times. "All the news that's fit to print."

She can't find any other news that's fit to print?

shampoo said...

well, I went and read the article. that jill abramson women isn't a very good writer and her subject is poorly handled. I would rather read about poodle bitch's interesting under-the-bed naps. scout must sleep in a "crate." why doesn't jill do as poodle bitch's personal assistant and provide a proper bed?