Not Without My Puggle
A few weeks ago, Roommate and I decided we want to get a dog. Fully aware that we live in Manhattan, we didn't want anything too big; a puppy just large enough to fill the gaping emotional hole in both of our lives. Ex-officemate Lynn forwarded me an email from a couple whose puggle had a litter in the beginning of January. I contacted them and arranged to go up and see the puppies and possibly pick one out. I made the journey to Washington Heights and met with Jenn, the wife of the man I had been in contact with. I played with all 8 puppies. They are absolutely adorable. And I picked one out: a chubby little brown male (insert joke, re: my apartment already having one bitch *here*). While I was playing with him, I noticed that he was favoring one of his back legs a bit. I commented on it to Jenn, and asked her to just keep an eye on it over the following 3 weeks (the puppies were, at that point, too young to leave their mother). She agreed, saying that of course she understood that I wouldn't want to take home an injured dog. I went home and immediately sent pictures of my prospective puppy to everyone I know. I started picking out names with roommate. Excitement grew. A week later, I emailed both man (let's call him Pedro) and wife to confirm my choice, pending that his leg was ok.
Today, Pedro sent me the following via email:
First of all, this douchebag has never even met me. His wife did. And we got along great. And yet he's condescending enough to say to me that he's "convinced I am not ready for the commitment of raising a puppy"?! Because I'm concerned the dog may not be healthy?! Hey assface: when my parents bought me a cat for Christmas 2 years ago (which, I might add did wonders for my fears that I was going to die alone with 1,000 cats) and it developed a brain disease causing it to have seizures and crap all over my apartment, I spent over $1,000 and 2 months doing everything I could to keep it healthy. In the end, I had to have it put down, because the only other option was fucking brain surgery. So maybe I know something about taking care of a sick animal. But I guess you'd know more about me because I was concerned about the puppy's leg, right?
Fuck you, douchebag.
Second: I didn't want to buy into a puppy that was injured from the get go. I think that's pretty valid, don't you? Or would it make more sense that I said "Oh, he has a bad leg? Potential for suffering on the part of the dog and extra cost and difficulty for me? Where do I sign?" A dog is an investment of time, money and effort. And while I have plenty of all three to give, my resources are limited. I'm not looking to take on a huge challenge. I was just hedging my investment. Would you adopt a dog until you were sure it was completely healthy?
Fuck you, Douchebag.
Third: Who signs an email "Pedro MD"? Seriously. I'd bet good money this assface is a surgeon. That kind of arrogance in a doctor screams surgeon. Should I have signed my response "Dan, Esq."?
Fuuuuuuuuck you. Douche. Bag.
So I responded. I'll spare you my email, suffice it to say that I pointed out his jackassery in full and basically told him that he was being ridiculous and ought to reconsider. He replied and asked for my telephone number. I am patiently awaiting his call.
Is it wrong to want the puppy out of spite now?
I'm pissed at his judgment which is completely without basis. I'm pissed that he has the arrogance to condescend to me. I'm pissed that I was all excited and he decides I am not fit to raise a dog without having ever laid eyes on me. I'm pissed because I don't think being concerned about the dog's leg before I take him home is indicative of anything except that I have fully thought the decision through and want to make sure that all things are taken into consideration. And I'm not giving up without a fight.
Because this mouth breather has awakened the litigator within. And I'm not talking about the bitch you all know and love whose acerbic tongue has been known to reduce total strangers to tears merely for cutting me off on the sidewalk.
I'm talking about the litigator who by the end of the conversation will calmly have talked Pedro into not only handing over the puppy that I already think of as mine, but his wife, the combination to his safety deposit box, and a kidney.
Today, Pedro sent me the following via email:
Dear DanOK, let me walk you through it.
The puppy is doing fine but your concern with his leg has made me concerned. Although I am pretty sure he is healthy, I keep imagining the possibility of him getting sick for whatever reason and then not been taken care off.
Those puppies are like my kids and I have to make sure they are getting unconditional love. Your questions about his leg, even though they lack any medical basis, make me think that he would care for as long as his healthy and that is not good enough for me.
Therefore, I am not convinced you are ready for the commitment of raising a puppy.
Sincerely,
Pedro MD
First of all, this douchebag has never even met me. His wife did. And we got along great. And yet he's condescending enough to say to me that he's "convinced I am not ready for the commitment of raising a puppy"?! Because I'm concerned the dog may not be healthy?! Hey assface: when my parents bought me a cat for Christmas 2 years ago (which, I might add did wonders for my fears that I was going to die alone with 1,000 cats) and it developed a brain disease causing it to have seizures and crap all over my apartment, I spent over $1,000 and 2 months doing everything I could to keep it healthy. In the end, I had to have it put down, because the only other option was fucking brain surgery. So maybe I know something about taking care of a sick animal. But I guess you'd know more about me because I was concerned about the puppy's leg, right?
Fuck you, douchebag.
Second: I didn't want to buy into a puppy that was injured from the get go. I think that's pretty valid, don't you? Or would it make more sense that I said "Oh, he has a bad leg? Potential for suffering on the part of the dog and extra cost and difficulty for me? Where do I sign?" A dog is an investment of time, money and effort. And while I have plenty of all three to give, my resources are limited. I'm not looking to take on a huge challenge. I was just hedging my investment. Would you adopt a dog until you were sure it was completely healthy?
Fuck you, Douchebag.
Third: Who signs an email "Pedro MD"? Seriously. I'd bet good money this assface is a surgeon. That kind of arrogance in a doctor screams surgeon. Should I have signed my response "Dan, Esq."?
Fuuuuuuuuck you. Douche. Bag.
So I responded. I'll spare you my email, suffice it to say that I pointed out his jackassery in full and basically told him that he was being ridiculous and ought to reconsider. He replied and asked for my telephone number. I am patiently awaiting his call.
Is it wrong to want the puppy out of spite now?
I'm pissed at his judgment which is completely without basis. I'm pissed that he has the arrogance to condescend to me. I'm pissed that I was all excited and he decides I am not fit to raise a dog without having ever laid eyes on me. I'm pissed because I don't think being concerned about the dog's leg before I take him home is indicative of anything except that I have fully thought the decision through and want to make sure that all things are taken into consideration. And I'm not giving up without a fight.
Because this mouth breather has awakened the litigator within. And I'm not talking about the bitch you all know and love whose acerbic tongue has been known to reduce total strangers to tears merely for cutting me off on the sidewalk.
I'm talking about the litigator who by the end of the conversation will calmly have talked Pedro into not only handing over the puppy that I already think of as mine, but his wife, the combination to his safety deposit box, and a kidney.
Wouldn't you go to the mattresses if this was on the line?
posted by Dxx at 12:39 PM
Hoorah! I am "fard up" as the thickly twanged Texan cheerleaders say! Also, am glad to have you as our consiglari.
What an Asshole! Go get 'em.
Miss you,
LG from PW
Dan, if I were there, I'd be the one standing over whatever you chose to leave of this assbag, hollering, "Kick 'im agin! Fuck 'im up!"
His rude and condescending reaction to your concerns about his leg when nearly everything I've read about buying purebreds says to make sure they're absolutely sound (there's even a certification that their frames are healthy and I can't recall offhand what it's called, but the advice is to make sure a pup has it) really makes me wonder what's wrong with the poor cutie pie's leg and why Pedro doesn't want you to know about it.
That's not just the litigator in you getting ready to go to work; it's your bullshit detector going off.
I. will. cut. him.
I will. Really. My sister got me an awesome new Wusthof knife for Christmas that cuts tomatoes like nobody's business. I probably wouldn't use that one, cuz it's new and then I would be grossed out and not want to use it on tomatoes anymore, which would be just a waste.
But the offer still stands. With any of my other knives or sharp, pointy objects.
*backing away slowly from the caffeinated beverage*