Carol is my closest friend. And I hate her dog. Sure, hate is a strong word. But guess what? I wouldn’t choose it if it weren’t true. I check in with myself frequently and I say to myself “Yep, I still hate Carol’s dog.” Would I tell her this? God, no - just the opposite, as friends should. I sent off of the little monster to MyPopArt.com and had a lovely art strokes rendering of it, for Carol’s birthday.

It’s always a little strange to me when people act like animals are people. I wonder what is lacking in their lives. In Carol’s case, who knows? She seems pretty happy. But she worships the dog as if it were some canine queen. When I visit her, the dog shows total disdain for me. The “queen” doesn’t really appreciate the intrusion of a lowly serf like me, I suppose.

Carol then goes to explain to the dog, in great detail, “Listen, Sophia. My friend is visiting and I need to spend some time with her. I know you’re upset but I promise, you will get my undivided attention in an hour or so.” I wonder when she lost the dog. Was it the word “undivided”? Or when she tried to explain the concept of time to a dog? I think it was the second she opened her mouth, frankly.

But I’ll keep my mouth closed. Carol loved her birthday present. It displayed Sophia in all of her weird, little glory. Carol took down her family portrait and replaced it with Sophia’s. Nice, Carol.

Oh well, what do you do? I worship wine, chocolate and young men sometimes and that’s not the most “normal” thing in the world, right?

Viva la difference.