Photo courtesy of Gerard Van der Leun/flickr
If it can fit in a purse, it’s a not a dog. It’s a glorified hamster.
Little dogs are, in direct defiance of my “everything should be functional” rule, totally useless. They’re also yappy, hyper, ugly little freaks; the result of decades of inbred personality flaws and bad decisions. Napoleon complexes, eyeballs that pop out of their sockets because their skulls are literally too small to hold them, turds that look like tootsie rolls? These little bastards can gladly get wiped out in the next apocalypse.
They’re also often seen wearing clothes. Apparently the little darlings get cold and require sweaters and jackets and cashmere and collars with diamonds. The only clothes I’ve every appreciated on animals were yellow rain slickers, complete with fisherman-style hats, worn by two dachshund brothers. The dachshunds were taken on a daily walk through my college campus, rain (and, therefore, in jackets) or shine by a sweet old German lady. And they were awesome. Unlike this travesty: