Shakespeare's Dog

There is an old New Yorker cartoon: "On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog." Not that my dog is capable of impersonating a highly literate blogger with an enormous vocabulary such as myself, obviously, but she does contribute an occasional article to the Huffington Post and, when in the mood, leaves comments on the online edition of El Pais.

Not that it matters, of course, whether the author of a particular article is a dog, a foreign correspondent or a political wonk, since the opinions expressed will be equally as biased, misinformed and ultimately discreditable regardless of the species from which they originate.
Nevertheless, I do feel beholden to my readers to confess that all blog posts appearing here are written from a dog-centric point-of-view, especially if they concern vague sounds and motion outside a window, objects that can be chewed or devoured, miscellaneous odors, deciduous trees, the books of Albert Camus and pretty much anything that can be buried and then exhumed at some unspecified point in the future. In fact, a close textual analysis of almost any subject discussed on these pages will probably reveal canine influence to some degree.
Indeed, all dog owners are aware that their pets are often trying to tell them something. Most of these subtle, tail-wagged communications are usually simple requests: for more scraps from the table; for less commands to roll over or sit up and beg; for you to ignore those idiotic ads for tasteless Milk Bone biscuits; for you to read aloud from the works of Mallarme, Diderot and Rousseau. Personally I ignore that last one, but, unwisely, lots of dog lovers don't and consequently only have themselves to blame since over-exposure to eighteenth-century French literature is one of the reasons why an uneducated and illiterate puppy will urinate all over the house and crap in the closets. It's not the dog's fault, no matter what they claim to the contrary at the kennels of the Sorbonne.
Dogs are the most social of creatures, even if their social networks hitherto have been confined to sniffing each others posteriors. Surely it's time that dogs were provided with an Internet platform for their views, even if it is only an inefficient blog? So consider this site to be an online marking of dog territory in human words, so to speak; a splashing of scent wafting through the world wide web.

Comments

[Giric]

Your doggy looks adorable. My miniature schnauzer, named Mollie, passed away from old age, two years ago and I was so attached to her that I haven't been able to bring myself to get another dog. She was the funniest character and would sit on my lap while at the computer or pretty much wherever I sat. She loved to climb on the back of my couch and watch out the front window for the UPS man and then light off with these extremely high pitched yips which nearly made him jump out of his skin, so he took to trying to sneak up to the door without her seeing him. He never could and it was a riot. She only barked that way at him, so we always knew when we had a package. I still miss her something fierce.

[MBT Shoes]

Your doggy looks adorable. My miniature schnauzer, named Mollie, passed away from old age, two years ago and I was so attached to her that I haven't been able to bring myself to get another dog. She was the funniest character and would sit on my lap while at the computer or pretty much wherever I sat. She loved to climb on the back of my couch and watch out the front window for the UPS man and then light off with these extremely high pitched yips which nearly made him jump out of his skin, so he took to trying to sneak up to the door without her seeing him. He never could and it was a riot. She only barked that way at him, so we always knew when we had a package. I still miss her something fierce.