By Kevin Cooney It occurs to me (often) that more than a few pets in this city have a higher quality of life than I do. Even my own goldfish, Kenji, has a comparatively sweet set up compared to my humble abode. I mean considering his size versus my size and the size of our respective homes, he is swimming around in a palatial mansion. Plus if it's really true that goldfish have a very short memory, by the time he gets to one end of his tank he doesn't even remember where he was a few seconds ago. This would explain why he turns around heads back to where he was about 5 seconds earlier. I hope he has a short memory, because that fish has seen things that would surely scar his young fish psyche forever, were they not happily already forgotten. I pace around in my apartment a lot. Unfortunately because it is so small I only go a step or two before I have to turn around. So I guess Im not really pacing, just spinning. It occupies a very large portion of my day. The other portion is spent on my computer. Similarly my fish hovers next to his endlessly bubbling water filter. It's our respective comfort zones. Cutting of his air supply or my internet would have disastrous health affects. Dogs carried in bags by attractive female Tokyoites however, I beat on acreage. I have the added benefit of not having a mascara brush crammed halfway up my butt and a compact mirror digging into my spine. While the prospect of being totted around by an attractive 20 year old is neat, I would really require a roman style litter and 4 to 6 litter bearers. Preferably gyaruo. That would be awesome. I digress. The sight of dogs carried in bags is a typical Tokyo sight, and one everyone seems to notice. Mostly people just remark how decadent it seems, and when the woman is also carrying a parasol one starts to wonder if people missed the whole point of the Marie Antoinette story. But what I take away from it is that, as ridiculous as the situation seems, the dog likely is unaware that the situation is ridiculous. Correct me if I'm wrong, but dogs... while wonderful creatures are not particularly attuned to their surroundings. My shins attest to the fact that most dogs have little social awareness. But dogs, if they dream, probably dream about pretty straight forward things. Food, sticks to chase and an occasional tryst with a corduroy covered leg. I never quite got the phrase, "every dog has his day." I think for dogs, the standard to which they consider "having had their day" is pretty low. Pretty much everyday is a dog's day. Probably because dogs don't complain about apartment sizes. Have you seen a "dog house." That almost makes the japanese euphemism "Mansion" seem accurate. Dogs also don't generally pass up delicious looking garbage... or really any garbage. And of course dogs don't blog. So with this in mind I'm going to attempt not to envy my goldfish and his comparatively lush, lavish lifestyle. I'm going to forego jealousy of pampered poodles in Prada. I'm simply going to enjoy what life has given me and not want for anything more. Well... ok, a little more closet space at least.
October 23, 2009 11:27 AM








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