Faux Pas

There are two types of benign small talk I try to avoid.  The first is commenting on the weather.  Though I admit I often fail at refraining from this one.  As hard as I try, sometimes I simply lose control and end up sounding ridiculous.  You know, when you're standing with the doorman at your friend's building waiting for her to get her ass downstairs, and the wind is just whipping off the park, and you find yourself breaking the silence with, "This must be the windiest corner in the whole city."  Whenever I say this (and I've said it more than once, but never twice to the same person) I receive an unintelligible mumble in response.  Then I cringe.  At other times my lugubrious nature gets the best of me and I cannot resist moaning in misery about the rain or the cold or the lack of sunlight in winter.  Because you know this lifts everybody's spirits.

The second kind of chit chat I refuse to participate in (and usually do a better job of avoiding than weather talk) is dog Q & A.  That's what happens in New York when you and your dog encounter someone and their dog.  If Dudley had it his way, as he usually does, he would say hello to every dog we pass.  Unless I am running very late or the approaching dog appears to be "unsocialized" we will stop and sniff.  That's when the questions follow.  "How old is he?"  "What's his name?"  "Is that a schnauzer?"  "No, a Scottish terrier."  I always smile and answer these questions pleasantly.  But I rarely ask them in return unless the other dog is a super cute, playful puppy.  Which is what happened yesterday.

One thing I pride myself on is my ability to identify almost every breed of dog.  I would never make the mistake of asking if a Scottie is a schnauzer, for example.  But I have a big rule about not asking someone if their dog is a such and such if there is the slightest chance that it is not.  Once my friend Jennifer asked a woman if her dog was a purebred English bulldog.  Of course it was, so I felt it was my duty to reprimand Jen; insisting that she never ask someone if their dog is a purebred, since her asking implies that it could pass for a mutt.

The only time I really ever ask is if I know a dog is some obscure breed and I want to impress the owner with my knowing.  I have never been wrong.  Until yesterday when we met a girl and her papillon.  Now I am fully aware of what a papillon is.  Their butterfly-like ears are unmistakable.  As we approached I swear I thought "what and adorable little papillon wanting to play with Dudley."  Well I don't know what possessed me, but as soon as I said hello I asked this very sweet young lady if her dog was a long haired chihuahua.  "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"  I screamed to myself after it was too late to take it back.  Ever so politely the girl said, "No, she's a papillon."

I died.  You wanna hear a blubbering idiot?  "No no.  She's beautiful.  I KNEW she was a papillon.  I don't know why for a second I thought she was a long haired chihuahua.  Do people ask you all the time if she's a long haired chihuahua?"  "Yes, sometimes", she replied.  "Oh, you must hate that. [Oh god please Frank, SHUT UP!]  Not that there's anything wrong with long haired chihuahuas.  I really like them. [He can't stop!] But I guess if I didn't have a long haired chihuahua I wouldn't want people asking if my dog was a long haired chihuahua."

Isn't that just awful?  Then as I walked away, my head hung in disgrace, I asked myself why I found it so hideous to have made this faux pas.  I think it must be because, although I really do like chihuahuas, they practically wear signs reading "BORN IN A PUPPY MILL" or "BOUGHT IN A PET SHOP".  And there are images of impulse purchases of these fury rhinestone wearing props by certain blond celebrities and the dummies who want to imitate them.  I knew this girl with her papillon was not one of them.

Comments

[Michele Kelly]

I'm laughing out loud. Especially because I can hear you saying in my ear, "you don't know what any dog is" and "every dog you like is a mutt". See there is always a time when a know it all has his moment. Well I guess you had yours.

[Sara]

Nothing duller than weather talk. The worst is when people talk about their bowel movements.

[Sara]

So do we think he cheated on Cindi? And if he did so bloody what?

[Huss]

McCain reminds me of Uno the beagle, with his jowls. This may be no country for old men, but there's always a place for irascible old codgers in our hearts. I heard that Hillary wears a dog's head night cap when she goes to bed (a real decapitated head that is).