In the past few months I have noticed a subtle shift in the way that New York City dog owners manage their dogs. I love dogs, but I realize that this love does not extend to urban animals in the same capacity that it does towards the dogs from my youth. Sure, a tiny miniature tea-cup pee-wee gnome pomeranian is pretty fucking cute but I will gladly feed it to my giant inbred tick-covered Golden Retriever any day of the week.
On most mornings, I walk to my office via 24th Street between 9th and 10th Aves. Those who are familiar with this area know that my morning commute takes me straight through the heart of DOGSHIT LAND. This block has a higher person to mini-dog that costs over $2000 ratio than anywhere else in the city. It is the kind of block where more often than not a dog's name corresponds directly with its owner's favorite designer. - Miu Miu , Dolce , Chloe, Ralph...
Anyway, back to the new dog-management. There have been a couple of recent instances where I have seen a dog and his owner involved is some sort of matrix-style yoga pose on street. The owner is always looking really serious like trying to commune with the dog and the dog is always looking super scared and is peeing a little bit. Apparently, this is what the Dog Whisperer wants us to do. Press your dog into the sidewalk and concentrate really hard and you will bring his beast psychology back into balance.
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