Ten reasons why Emily shouldn’t get a dog right now

10.) Money. Vet bills. Accessories. Cool collars, beds and fun toys!!! Wait. Focus. Why care for someone else when I’ve only just begun caring for myself (and the giant peace lily in my family room)?

9.) Shedding. Unless I get a hairless dog, like Cruella de Vil’s Fluffy:

Remember?
Remember?

8.) Barking. Because my neighbor’s dog is kind of annoying. Even though I know he/she just wants to get off the darn leash and go for a walk for once. Phew. Had to get that off my chest.

7.) Accidents in the house. Because, though I loved that little black cock-a-poo, Oliver made messes in the house throughout my childhood. Even when he reached doggy adulthood. He who used to run into the back screen door never learned right from wrong. In retrospect, he would have looked really cute in one of those doggy diapers. Human diapers may have even worked…he didn’t have much of a tail. Hmm…

6.) Wait –– I don’t have carpet. Huzzah! But this is supposed to be a con list. Whoops.

5.) What if she’s territorial? My boyfriend would probably have to sleep on an air mattress if my dog ends up anything like my brother’s golden retriever. And she would, of course, sleep in my bed with me. She’d be my little princess. She’d have a pretty green bed in the corner, but she’d never sleep in it because she’d be welcome on mine. It’s a queen. It’s definitely big enough.

4.) She’d take over my life. As seen in #5, I’d basically let her walk all over me. Which is what dog owners are supposed to do, right? They’re too cute to let down…

3.) No drinks right after work. Dorothy’s gotta go potty sometime.

2.) No weekend trips. Or a life, really. Because, like I said before, she’d take it over. She wouldn’t be like a cat whose food bowl I can fill and litter box I can clean. She’d be my version of a human baby, because God knows I’m not ready for that shit yet.

1.) I’m looking too hard. She needs to find me.

Happy Birthday, Barbie

Dear Barbie,

First, I’d like to congratulate you. Happy fiftieth birthday! I won’t bore you with any of those “getting older” Hallmark cards. Old age obviously doesn’t affect you in any way. I mean, c’mon, you’re made of plastic. People pay big bucks to have that stuff injected into their faces, and you have it made. It’s in your genes. Embrace it. Your age doesn’t show on any of your faces.

We’ve had good times over the years. Playing for hours at your house, mixing it up and socializing with some Fisher Price “kids,” going swimming in the summer heat, going bowling, and opening a schoolhouse and pet shop. Sure, our businesses didn’t fluorish, but our friendship did. I’m sorry I misplaced many of your shoes, and I am also apologetic for leaving you naked on the carpet due to my short attention span. But hey, I made up for it by helping you and Ken ice skate and by going on a cruise with you and Skipper.  Riding in your convertible with “Barbie Girl” by Aqua playing was a blast.

Your vacation home was so much fun to play in, but my favorite was definitely your mansion (which I still keep downstairs). The elevator never failed to entertain me. We had fun walking the dog together, right? And don’t you dare forget celebrating Easter together with Kelly! I will never forget going to a Girl Scout sleepover and watching a presentation by a Barbie expert who had millions of you set up on a table in the front of the room. You have played so many characters and taken so many shapes!

Anyway, Barb, I guess where I am getting at is that watching the Jeopardy! category pop up called “Fifty Years With Barbie” really brought back some memories. Happy memories. Memories I will always cherish. Thanks for helping me celebrate birthdays, and I’m sorry I graduated to the much smaller and petite Polly Pocket, but you should always know that I hold a special place for you in my heart. Maybe my little girl will dig up all of my old dolls of you from my parents’ basement and play with them; just as I did with my mother’s old dolls. Happy Birthday, Barbie. It’s been fun. Fifty years have passed, but it doesn’t show on you. I swear.

With Love,

Emily S.