The problem(s) with dressing up your pets

I’ve never fully understood why some people dress up their pets. On rare occasions I get it–it’s Halloween and you want the whole family to go out together as a matching crew, so you tie a little sheet onto Pugly’s back and BAMhe’s a ghost. Okay. But the rest of the year, dressing up your pets is not cool. I live across the street from a store that exclusively sells tiny costumes that wouldn’t look cute even if you pasted it on the nearest teacup chihuahua and stuck a bow on its head. While the occasional cat or ferret meets this same fate, I’m going to focus on dogs, who seem to experience the brunt of this costume epidemic.

The rest of this post will be written from your dog’s point of view. I promise you–this is accurate.

HALLOWEEN
(bad)

Hi. I’m Roger. I’m sorry that you had to see me like this. I’m usually pretty handsome–golden hair, silky coat, dull teeth that are great for gnawing on the neighbor’s cat’s leg–but today, something horrible has happened. My people have made me wear clothes, just like them. They strapped this thing to my head, too, and it’s so itchy. They won’t even scratch me underneath it. I can barely walk in this thing. What’s going on? Why would they embarrass me like this? The cat next door is going to laugh at me when he sees me, and he’ll never take me seriously again. And what is this thing–a basket? There isn’t even food inside. That’s like making me do a trick by holding out your closed hand and pretending there’s a treat in it, and after I humiliate myself for your entertainment you aren’t even going to feed me. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I promise you that the next time my people try to put clothes on me, I’m playing dead.

Hey! It’s me, Ginger! What is this? What are you doing to me? No, take this off! Do not want! I’m a taco? What? Just because I’m Mexican, you dress me up like a taco? You’ve pretended to love me for years and only now do I see how discriminatory you are! Plus, it’s not like I wasn’t already worried about getting eaten by a falcon–now I look delicious to humans! Why would you do this to me?

I can’t believe you’d put me in this and then take me to Sears. I’m embarrassed for the guy that had to take this picture. Really, guys–really? When do I get to take this off?

 

 

 

THE REST OF THE YEAR
(worse, considering there is no reason for it)

I’m Plinko. I wasn’t alive in the ’80s. I wasn’t even alive in the ’90s. Why in Great Dane’s name would you make me dress like you did? Acid washed vest, ponytails, crimped hair and teased bangs–at least you didn’t put matching acid washed jeans on me. Because believe me–I’d poop in them so quickly you wouldn’t recognize them anymore.

MOMMY/DADDY! Why do I need to wear this when I have a coat of my own? I went to the trouble of growing all this fur myself–it’s waterproof, I promise! I don’t know why you don’t believe me. I’m getting too hot underneath all this Adidas. Besides, I prefer Nike. Can you see the tears welling up in my eyes?

 

 

Hi. I’m Jake. My shoes match my owner’s dress. Wait, my SHOES? Why am I wearing shoes? When did you put these on? I thought I’d stepped in something gross. What am I, an accessory? I know I have perfectly good feet, and by putting shoes on me you’re implying that I have bad feet that can’t handle the outdoors! I’m a freakin’ DOG! It’s you that can’t handle the outdoors, lady. I wish I could get these off, but there’s too much velcro in the way. And even if I had opposable thumbs with which to tear off these atrocities, they’d probably be stuck in stupid gloves!

Dressing up your pets is not cute or awesome. The end.

(Um. Well, okay. Here’s one exception:)

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