Melville Cooke

'Ol dawg like we

We haffi have dem inna twos an'

tree.'

- Beenie Man

ONE OF the consequences of an active, incessant imagi-nation, as well as a twisted sense of humour, is often having uncharitable thoughts. The con-sequence of those uncharitable thoughts is jokes that are best kept to oneself, hence the madman always seems to be laughing at something no one else can understand. There is, as Anancy and The Joker illustrate beautifully, a thin line between giggles and genius.

But I just could not keep this one to myself any longer.

A few months ago, The Star carried a story about a dog (a poodle, I believe) being taken from its female owner in Havendale at gunpoint and being held for ransom. I could not help reconstructing the poochnapping (warning, some scenes may not be appropriate for women).

Lady is sauntering down the road in a solidly residential community, her prized pooch on a leash, nose to the ground, looking all cute and sniffing as the owner does her best to look all cute, occasionally sniffing too. A van (appropriate to the area the poochnappers were in an SUV; no tinted white Corollas here) pulls up and a man comes out with a gun pointed in their direction. "Come here bitch!" he snarls. She recoils in horror, although thinking that at least her make-up is in good order and wondering just how high a ransom she will fetch, even as she pleads, "Oh please, don't hurt me!"

And the man with the gun sighs, lowers the weapon, closes his eyes in exasperation, taps his left foot twice, opens his eyes and says in a weary voice: "Not you, woman, the dog, the dog." She duly hands over the little furball, although unsure if she should be relieved or embarrassed.

I told you it was uncharitable.

Women holding the leash

The 'puppy show' is on in the streets, the plazas and the residential areas of, certainly, St. Andrew, in earnest, with any number of lowered four-footers waggling around at the end of (always) brightly colored leashes or being cuddled lovingly. While a few men have taken on to this fashion trend (much as some have taken to hipster jeans and tight blouses), it is predominantly women who are preening with their pooches, loyal, low maintenance mongrels, none, Shitzu and other less potentially pungent names, many.

I have a theory about these mainly female-controlled and maintained dogs, although the hair blocks rear-view visual confirmation and I have not done the tail lift test. However, I believe that behind the craze (apart from the fact that the dogs are often cuter than their owners and hence carry off the leash-holder - one more uncharitable thought) - is a deep desire to control an 'ol dawg,' as Beenie Man memorably dubbed the wandering willie species. Therefore, the women choose male dogs to tote around.

Subconscious desire

So when a woman has a cute male dog under her total control, she subconsciously fulfills the desire to have an attractive male under her thumb, being able to pet and pamper him while applying discipline when necessary (for her or him), without fear of him being a real 'ol dawg' and taking off for 'lusher' pastures. Additionally, she lives vicariously through the attention the dog gets and, if he barks up a few bitchy trees, no harm done. In fact, all the better, for are not bitches there for the barking up in this bitch beat bitch world?

This 'puppy show' does not come cheap, though, as a scan through the Sunday classifieds will show. Which is just as well, for what use is a fashion statement if it is not also a financial statement, the combination making it a matter of class?

As for that pooch kidnapped in Havendale, it was rescued by the police and reunited with its owner. We serve. We protect. We retrieve.

Melville Cooke is a freelance writer.