Pet Channel

Anyway, I think my relationship with reality TV and anything with a commentator/narrator has finally come around to bite me in the ass. Or tail. Or something. Last month when the Westminster Dog Show was on, I had lunch with a friend that I haven’t seen in seven years. This means, of course, that she wasn’t up to date on any of the little things that go on with me, and so she had no idea what she was doing when she asked if I indeed was ready to give up the “thrill and romance of dating” and finally settle down with someone. I replied that of course I’d give up the horror and torment of dating in order to settle down with someone, and then, Hawaiian-style, proceeded to explain that really, dating was like a dog show — it all comes down to grooming, pedigree, breeding, and presentation. She, of course, was rightfully appalled at this reduction, and said that even if it were an absolute truth I should perhaps let other people think there’s more to it than just this barest of recipes for conjuring the magic of romance and love.