An Open and Fetching Letter to the Lonely Hearts Club, Vancouver Branch

With all this Vancouverite loneliness being discussed and restaurant owners plotting ways to introduce strangers to each other and all that useless texting and hopeless, anxiety-driven cell phone calling, and given the absolute popularity these days (witness our sidewalks) of the dog, I suggest a resolution to once and for all settle the issue of the lonely hearts club, Vancouver Branch. Date your dog.

The Noble Pooch. Just imagine. Well I did and here’s my list: Smoochie Poochie picnics in off-leash zones; Pedicures for all fours; Dog salon visitations to experience intimate de-licing techniques; Dog-breath sunsets; Panting salivations to accompany Al Green serenades on the dance floor; Slop tongue remedies for facial hangovers (and acne); Doggie instructions on how to catch the poop; Shopping for new boots to fit nipped ankles; Speed-dating with Greyhounds; Binge-drinking with St Bernards; Double-dating with underfed pitbulls; Watching Sylvester Stallone movies with 101 Dalmations; Powdering your Silky Terrier’s nose; Lap-dancing with your Pomeranian; Tickling the chin of your beloved Shih Tzu;

Private lessons in removing Shih Tzu teeth clamped on bleeding nose; Naked Tummy Rubbing Competitions at Wreck Beach for the salacious entertainment of the RCMP; Fetching sticks (quickly) for your occasionally misbehaving, irritable Doberman; Playing Frisbee with your Japanese Spitz Fire. A photo album to die for – oh, and speaking of which, there’s always taxidermy. With science just purring along these days it won’t be long before you can just wind up ol’ dead Yeller and take him on that heavenly stroll down memory lane, being kept of course on a long leash so all and sundry can swoon and gander, and pet and tickle your fur-shedding zombie pup.