It's a Dog's Life

Dog's have the life. Though recently, I've reconsidered my answer to "If you could be any animal, what would it be?" and thought I might want to be a duck, I do think the final winner would be a dog. But I'd be selective. I wouldn't be a big dog that can't be held, or some dog that belongs to just a family that just throws it a bone from time to time.

No.

I'd probably be a Chihuahua. Not a toy Chihuahua, because I don't want to fear being stepped on or lost for life. But a Chihuahua, because I would be small enough to be held all the time and I don't want to have to worry about my hair being groomed. I hate having my hair messed with and tugged. A Chihuahua just wakes up in the morning (or midmorning, or afternoon, or...) and is ready to go.

I would live with a spoiled women in her twenties who lives off daddy's credit cards and would baby me more than daddy babies her, so all of my needs (and then some) would be taken care of. Maybe I would even get to drink out of a funky glass, even though I'm a dog. Maybe something like this.

Yes, I would, because I'm spoiled and my caretaker senses my funky personality and needs.






I would probably usually lounge in this during the day.










Unless one of our good friends was to stop by, then I suppose I would need to slip on something more appropriate. I think this deep v-neck faux-fur rimmed sweater is something that might impress any gentlemen who might happen to pop in.










And of course, at night my guardian (she's not my owner, she's my caretaker) may have a ritzy gathering and I would need something fashionable for that. I think this $40 Shanghai cocktail dress with the red ruffles for flair would really make me look almost intimidatingly sexy and exotic.


Anyway, I think the life of a spoiled dog is something to envy. All you have to do is be held, wear luxurious clothes, drink out of human dishes, sneak human food and sleep in big fluffy beds. What's not to love?