Oh noeess! Hippie Cesar-ites
That's correct, people, Cesar Milan has wormed his way into the peace-loving culture of the hippies!
What am I talking about?
Well, I am glad you asked. See, every year I have to table at an event called the Whole Earth Festival in Davis, California. While the event is alcohol free and vegetarian friendly, the dreadlocks run rampant, body hair is EVERYWHERE, deoderant seems to be considered optional (not by me, mind you), and the sweet aroma of pot wafts all over the place. Anyway, I'm sure you get the point.
The Whole Earth Festival is dog friendly (Mina went with me today, in case you were DYING to know), and to be redundent, there are a lot of dogs there.
Of course, my pibble detector was on high alert (it's located behind my kidneys). I saw a gorgeous slate colored pit bull, probably less than two years of age, trotting alongside her guardian master of the universe person. She decides that the grass five feet away looks particularly enchanting and her nose heads in that direction.
All of a sudden, I hear the guy go "tsst" and pinch the top of the dog's neck, right behind her collar. She looks at him like he's grown a second head, gazed longingly back at the grass, and decides "Hey! I'm a fucking dog, I have every right to smell the grass - TSSST be damned!" He then alpha scruffs her and slams her to the ground, telling her NO!
Okay, so in my head, I imagine myself leaping over the table, running in slow motion, kicking the guy in the shin and rescuing this poor pup from the clutches of a Cesar-ite. Instead, I calmly (well, sorta) skirt around the table, Mina attached to my side (again, sorta) and amble over to the cute pibble and the not so cute owner. It turns out hippies watch television and have expanded cable. That's sticking it to the man! Anyway, the conversation headed nowhere in about .05 milliseconds flat, and the guy dragged his dog off somewhere to beat her senseless for looking at the ivy strange. Sad.
What am I talking about?
Well, I am glad you asked. See, every year I have to table at an event called the Whole Earth Festival in Davis, California. While the event is alcohol free and vegetarian friendly, the dreadlocks run rampant, body hair is EVERYWHERE, deoderant seems to be considered optional (not by me, mind you), and the sweet aroma of pot wafts all over the place. Anyway, I'm sure you get the point.
The Whole Earth Festival is dog friendly (Mina went with me today, in case you were DYING to know), and to be redundent, there are a lot of dogs there.
Of course, my pibble detector was on high alert (it's located behind my kidneys). I saw a gorgeous slate colored pit bull, probably less than two years of age, trotting alongside her guardian master of the universe person. She decides that the grass five feet away looks particularly enchanting and her nose heads in that direction.
All of a sudden, I hear the guy go "tsst" and pinch the top of the dog's neck, right behind her collar. She looks at him like he's grown a second head, gazed longingly back at the grass, and decides "Hey! I'm a fucking dog, I have every right to smell the grass - TSSST be damned!" He then alpha scruffs her and slams her to the ground, telling her NO!
Okay, so in my head, I imagine myself leaping over the table, running in slow motion, kicking the guy in the shin and rescuing this poor pup from the clutches of a Cesar-ite. Instead, I calmly (well, sorta) skirt around the table, Mina attached to my side (again, sorta) and amble over to the cute pibble and the not so cute owner. It turns out hippies watch television and have expanded cable. That's sticking it to the man! Anyway, the conversation headed nowhere in about .05 milliseconds flat, and the guy dragged his dog off somewhere to beat her senseless for looking at the ivy strange. Sad.