Leona Helmsley's Dog's Potty Mouth

I am sitting here in BALT offices (imaginary offices mind you) staring at a picture of the now deceased billionaire Leona Helmsley sitting with a rather cute dog in her lap. The picture is from a BBC article in which we are reminded that the billionairess attempted to leave $12 million to her dog instead of her grand kids. No doubt cause the grand kids were complete asses? Perhaps she can explain that while she rolls over in her grave learning that the court has taken from the dog to rightfully give to the kids.

We are about to piss off a ton of animal lovers, but the truth must be spoken, and if our offices (again, all imaginary) get fire bombed, so be it. Our imagination can handle it.

Animal rights groups are salivating over the potential $8 billion estate, imagining all sort of initiatives to make the world a better place for, ...dogs (and despite the fact that at least one cartoon has assured us that all dogs go to heaven anyway so why bother):

Charities said the money could be used to rescue dogs from disaster zones and to tackle dog fighting, rabies in China and India as well as the canine over-population problem.

Because in this world where some people have no food to eat, the most pressing use for $8 billion is to send it to the dogs.

Of course this enthusiasm might be tempered by the fact that she did not expressly indicate the distribution in her will. And fortunately so.

Right now on television they are doing the advance advertising for a new reality show, Greatest American Dog, where Americans and their mongrels will compete to see who is, in fact, the greatest dog. While the concept is pleasant enough, what annoys is one upcoming contestent who tells us that her dog is "her soulmate".

All things being in doubt, like the concept of "greatest" anything, the concept of souls, of souls in dogs, and of conjoining souls with mate to create the ever dubioius soulmate, and cross species at that, I can hardly hold in my utter disdain.

Enough! Enough of pet owners proclaiming how great their pet is, or how their cat understands their mood, or that Fido or Guivera is like their child. Shut the infernal blazes of hell up! That's right I said that.

The type of people who move their pets along the path from animal, to human, to knighthood, to celestial deity, to let me kiss your toilet stained mouth, are deserving of every form of correction. I shall do it here, and not because I am against animals, but rather, because the state of humanity is so fragile. When humans are so screwed up in action, thought, and attitude, the animal world will only suffer in the long run.

The distinct pleasure of pet ownership is that they appeal to what is most selfish in man; as a pet owner your animal is there for you, always, and entirely dependent on you for a happy life. Knowing that you are the butterer of all bread, the layer of all dogbones, the cleaner of all poop, the builder of all homes, the walker of all walkers, it has no incentive to show any evil side or rebel. Unlike Satan, who felt compelled to dash from the worship of God, the source of his snacks, your pet will not be so proud, or take such initiative. He is a dog and just happy that today is Purina lamb flavored dinner day.

Indeed, and with all things provided, it might be virtually impossible for that pet to develop an evil disposition. As humans we make as pets those animals who will maintain that captive state of worship of our own presence. (Ha, and humans have trouble with Christianity, and a God who demands the same worship we compel from our pets). Hypocrisies!

And the fact of the matter is, these little pets remain for the most part like toddlers in our lives. There they are, hungry at our feet for food, at our feet sleeping, at our feet wanting to play. They hear the keys in the door and come running. "Momma" they say through each bark. We take them out to the park for playdates much like the foreign nannies flooding Central Park with the offspring of bankers and lawyers and other high powered types.

We use our pets to affirm ourselves so that we can in fact feel loved. For most pet owner this works out fine, and in healthy fashion. The pet is company, or good for the kids, or is also used for protection. He is part of the family, but not granted human status. In the end you know he is a pet and acknowledge the distinctions that your actual son should get your high school football trophies upon your own death.

But there is the other type of owner, often single (and often female) that will say absurdities like, "This is my child, no really" or, "Whomever I marry will have to like Fiona becausshe is like the daughter I never had" or, "I really can't answer the question of whether I would throw my baby or my dog off a row boat in your hypothetical construct and in fact my dog is my baby so it does not compute." Brain overload and distinction breakdown.

Such mental buggery of which I think Ms. Helmsley was a victim ought to be roundly pointed out and knocked down. What makes us special as humans (and actually can serve to protect the world) is our ability to take care of, nurture, and appreciate those things that DON'T automatically conform to our desire to be glorified.

Your dog is not your child because that dog will never take the natural progression that a child will take. A child will go through several stages and grow older into a teen and then an adult; that child may prove difficult to love or cause untold misery in your life. But because it is your child you learn to accept the good and the bad. You know that once that child gets a mind of his own, he will not blindly worship you or roll over to you every whim. You are not the boss of a real child. Your thirty five year old won't lick your face (hopefully) or take your crap... (again hopefully).

Owning a pet is like owning a toddler forever, and in that ownership we never learn how to truly love and embrace the difficult. We never learn to step outside of ourselves in a meaningful way. The humans in the wider world, and who cause the most problems, will not react in the way our pets will, and yet, full of pet theory, and pet love, and pet delusion, we will have no means to engage with real people. If we cannot engage real people and learn to work and understand those closest and farthest from us, then the worlds problems don't really get solved.

We sit in our cocoon world, with our pets, contemplating our navels, and shunting aside real people who probably also need our love, guidance, attention and wisdom.

In that regard, and in light of the suffering in the world, we here at BALT clearly hope that the courts or Leona's family manage to discount much of her intent and apportion some of her assets to humans, so that those humans can then go out and help other humans, AND pets.

Or maybe we just remain bitter. We walk around seeing really hot women french kissing their dogs, while masses of men go without, starving for female attention and affection. Maybe it's merely that. Regardless, something needs to be said.

Put the dog down, pick the person up.