My name is Penny.
Lately I’ve heard the Leader and the Old Boring Guy talking about fat dogs. They try not to talk about it when I’m around, but I hear it. Who could they be talking about?
I think people worry too much about weight. I don’t! In my pack, a big appetite was a sign of good health. That’s why people talk about having a healthy appetite. That makes me think I am very healthy!
I like to eat. What dog doesn’t? I like to sleep. What dog doesn’t like to do that, either? I go for walks, and sometimes Kasey and I will run around the house. I like to sniff, and smell, and bark at cats, and do everything that dogs do.
I don’t care about being the skinniest dog on the block. I like the smell of food and the taste of food. It makes my mouth water! I’d rather eat whenever I get the chance and be happy with a full belly. Why not? I am hungry!
Socks are the the most roundly ignored article of western clothing.
Unless you wear socks with shorts — which itself makes a significant statement about the kind of person you are — socks are hidden by your trousers. Very few people buy socks based on their colors, or designs, or fabrics. Even fewer people try to match their sock selection with the rest of their workday wardrobe. I usually pick out socks at random in a pitch-dark room in the morning because it is irrelevant whether my socks are blue, black or gray, plain or with a line down the side or an argyle pattern. No one will see them, so what difference does it make?
I think socks realize that no one pays attention to them or, frankly, cares about them. Most socks accept this fate and move forward with their humble existence and, when selection day comes, seek to find pride and fulfillment in performing their intended function of keeping human feet warm and dry and unchafed in a shoe. Other socks come to despair and can’t stand to continue with their sock-drawer lives and seize the first opportunity for freedom that presents itself, abandoning their mates and finding fulfillment in a life of solitary contemplation behind a clothes dryer or under a bed.
Still other socks rebel in a different way. They reject the very essence of sockdom. It galls them that no one gives them a second thought. They crave attention and can’t abide being ignored. They know that there are only two ways that an average sock can break out of the pack — by developing a hole in the toe or by losing all upper sock elasticity. Socks that eventually, after years of service, develop a hole in the heel have done their duty, but socks that quickly develop a hole in the toe are just acting out. Droopy socks, on the other hand, know that, over the course of the day, they will fall below ankle level and bunch around your heel again and again, requiring constant adjustment and attention. Each upward tug just further feeds their neediness and addiction to getting more and more attention.
In some ways, socks are like people.