Saturday, 25 February 2012

Men And Their Dogs

I had a date yesterday. It went well.

I say 'well', but that may be slightly misleading. I embarrassed myself on a number of occasions, talked him through the musical numbers in Burlesque and, at one point, interrupted a story that he was telling me so that I could change my mother’s amazon account password (something that APPARENTLY she was incapable of doing).

But, I mean, I didn’t set anything on fire and nobody cried. A success in anyone's book.

Obviously this was just a first date. I don’t anticipate entering into a Great Romance in the near future, so why do you even need to know about this nameless young man? I’ll tell you why. Because he told me a story about his dead dog.

Wait. I’m going somewhere with this.

The date had been pleasant enough – I was charming in my wonderfully awkward way and he was handsome enough that I didn’t really care about what he was saying – but the turning point came when he asked me if I had any pets. Yes, I said, a dog.

Oh, he said, I love dogs. I used to have one but it died a few months ago.

That’s sad, I said, What happened?

And he proceeded to tell me a devastating tale of a dog that was blind in one eye and crippled with stomach cancer.


Actually, it was a little bit romantic, in the weirdest way possible.

By the end of the story, I was in the palm of his hand. I would have married him there and then if he’d asked me, let me tell you.

HOWEVER, it has very suddenly occurred to me that this was not the first time I have been seduced by a story about an unfortunate pet. In the first few days of our relationship, Idiot told me about his beloved mutt and it’s tragic death at the hands of some sort of bone-thing. Fringe had a photo of a dead cat in his wallet. Even Stretch, for all his faults, had managed to show a modicum of emotion when telling me about giving his dog up when he sold his house.

So, basically, my question is this: is Tell-A-Sad-Pet-Story an actual thing?

And am I the only one being taken in by it?