Becoming a Dog Snob

Kristi Keller

Image by Rudy and Peter Skitterians from Pixabay

It’s official. I have climbed onto the pedestal of, “I’m better than the rest of the people because I have a dog.”

I don't even care what the humans are doing anymore, they're probably not worthy anyway.

There are plenty of dog owners who like their dogs enough to feed them and throw a ball. Then there are those of us who love our dogs more than the air we breathe and would rather not make time for humans anymore.

I knew it had become official when I’d go into work and ignore everyone while making a beeline toward the other guy who lives and breathes for his dog.

How do I know he lives for his dog? Because he doesn’t want kids. Instead he throws birthday “paw-ties” for his golden retriever, Louie. My dog is only nine months old, I haven’t had any paw-ties…yet.

While regular people ask each other how their kids are doing, dog people ask each other how our dogs are doing. We don’t care about other people’s kids.

Our dogs follow and talk to each other on Instagram. The fact that our dogs even have Instagram is snobbery at its finest.

I share custody of my dog, Dezi, with my mother. We live on the same street so our custody agreement is easy.

My mother has now become like an ex-husband .  I try to only talk to her if I want to pick up Dezi but I avoid other meaningless chatter at all cost.

It needs to be a quick in-and-out affair so I can sidestep hearing about how much dog hair she has swiffed that day. I don’t care about dog hair, someone else will clean it after I’m dead.

There are several ways to tell if you’re a dog snob.

When your mother texts you a big, long paragraph containing details of all her hopes and dreams and you reply with, “How’s Dezi today?”

When friends text asking if you want to get together and you reply, “Sure, how about the dog park?” If they don’t want to go for a walk, you don’t see your friends. Very simple.

When your entire life schedule is set around time spent with your dog.

When your dog weighs 65 pounds and still thinks she’s a lap dog, and you’re okay with it.

When you’d rather find a dog hair in your food than a human hair.

You can whip dog treats and poop bags out of any pocket in any article of clothing you own, almost like party favors.

When you know all the dog names at the off-leash park but don’t know any of the human names.

When you’re planning travel you only look for pet-friendly, ground-floor accommodations, preferably within roadtrip distance.

You’re thinking about purchasing a new SUV for road-tripping. The dog needs a more spacious back seat to ride in.

When you’re on a roadtrip in another city and you run into Louie, the golden retriever from Instagram.

If, God forbid, there were an earthquake, a typhoon, or an avalanche, you’d save your dog before you’d think about saving any humans.

The truth about my dog is that I adopted her during the pandemic. She was born on the day our country shut down. At six months old she also bore witness to the day my personal world shut down.

Dezi has now become my emotional support crutch and it seems to be a job she takes on with pride.

She listens to me and understands more than any human ever could. Her position on things is not neutral, she’s always on my side without fail.

She makes me laugh until I can’t breathe. No human has been able to accomplish such a feat in 2020.

We don’t have to do anything to make a dog happy except show up…maybe with a tiny piece of cheese. But even without the cheese, you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread every time you walk into a room.

If you’re not a dog owner you’ll never understand the joy of being gone for three minutes and your dog acting as if you’ve been gone for two months.

She’s happier to see you come back through the door than any human ever will be.

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I'm an old school travel writer who's been flung into another writing world through life experience. I have a compassionate eye, a different opinion, and strong words for this world we live in. I also know a thing or two.


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