This is what happens when you want to write, but your life in the past two weeks has been more boring than having a job as a male receptionist at a male gynecologist… So boring that you go to the internet to check out what the noun for a male gynecologist is, and you find out that the first sentence Google gives when you search “Gynecologist Opposite” is “There is no such thing as a Stupid Question.” Basically that is the code word for ‘You are dumber than a brick’.
I’ll start with a mild rant. I have a friend who frequents this blog. He does that for content and also to confirm I haven’t butchered his reputation in a paragraph. This week, he told me he registered for Yoga classes, for his fitness. Let me describe Yoga. Yoga is a low-impact recreational activity, which has more to do with sorcery and bravery than any physical activity. It takes more athletic ability to work as a teller in a supermarket (At least your hands move) than it ever will in Yoga. Yoga is so physically undemanding that when you’re done, you feel like you just woke up from a refreshing nap. Which is why I write this paragraph for my friend who shall not be named. (I know nothing about sports. I thought handball was a made up game in P.E until I saw it in the 2000 Olympic games) Friend, your problem is that you have a lot of money itching to be used. But instead of acting like a normal human being and buy junk food or spend that money on buying friends as myself non-important things like the samosa outside mojos, you chose something fancy which some girl you like mentioned in a passing statement. Friend, that girl cannot afford Yoga… It’s all in her face and Instagram photos. She uses Caro light, and has the same top in five different photos taken on diverse dates and different locations. Those ones don’t do Yoga.
Now that I am over that, we have to talk about this: Dogs.
I have said it countless times that I cannot stand dogs. A dog always stares, and looks like it is thinking. See the photo up there… Does that dog look like it is just innocently waiting for tomorrow’s newspaper? Every time I see a dog, I see its soul. I see its eyes and I can tell its mind… “Damn. Look at him; he probably tastes like marinated chicken. Why think, let me take a bite.” Based on this accurate representation of all staring dogs, you can tell why we have a frosty relationship with the canines. I’m the least qualified person in the world to give advice on anything that moves on 4 legs. But rambling on topics I know nothing about is kind of my comfort zone. I have years of experience at finding fault with everything other than myself.
I visited a doctor this week, Coptic Hospital. Egyptians are fine beings. I understand why it took Israelites so many years and divine intervention to leave Pharaoh’s land. Walk into Coptic Hospital’s pharmacy and see Mesopotamia in a whole new angle. There is a waiting lounge, where they call out names so loudly. I have never been confident with the name John, so I played some PR and sat next to the counter. A guy seated behind me, is the reason I write this. In the peace and quiet of a hospital, where everyone is thinking of how painful it is to be in pain and having to pay a fortune to relieve that pain, the gentle man seated behind could not keep his phone in silent mode. He looks 27ish (At 27 you have the maturity of someone close to marriage and the regret of not seeing your full potential early enough, but the vigour and energy of an unmarried man)… It rang and I had to turn just to have a clear look at his face. His ringtone is the sound of a dog barking continuously. I thought I was confused a few weeks back when I read on Mpasho that the word Okufuaf means a penis (The word penis is itself shorter with fewer syllables but you need to go the full length in order to sound cooler. Why say penis when you can say Okufuaf? Okufuaf is even sexier. Basic cool people language)… But this swept me. I have heard weird ringtones but a dog bark is a step too far.
He picks the phone and starts,
“Hey… You didn’t pick up. Oh Oooh. Okay.. Aaah. Ahhaaa. No worries. I was just asking you to feed Rowan. Yeah. His food is in the store. Sawa. Yeah.. No no, I’ll be back to take him for a walk. Sawa. Thanks, Cheers babe.”
That was pretty mental. First of all, I haven’t even met a human being called Rowan, and here, a dog is called Rowan. Whatever happened to usual dog names like Saddam, Madam and Oska… I have no idea. And then, this guy has not called the girlfriend to ask if she has eaten… Nope. He has called to ask her to feed his dog. I know it is a dog, because no man, even a single father or a gay father, would call to ask his spouse to feed the son or brother, let alone take them for a walk. And then he ends that conversation with ‘Cheers babe’. Woman, if your boyfriend owns a dog, has a moustache and a ‘trying afro’ (Ile Afro inajikaza kutokezea but genes are singing a different tune) but no beard on his chin, owns a Sony X-Peria and was at Coptic Hospital last week… Take an Uber, go home and fumigate the memories of your past. Watch a lot of comedy (I suggest you watch Tyler Perry Stage Plays) and come back ready for 2017 as a new person.
It is an instance of a dog running at me in 1999 that made me know I was a terrible fit for Boy Scouts. And after learning scouting would appear nowhere in my résumé, I hated both dogs and scouts (For some reason, I thought my future employer would actually care how many times I raised the flag on Friday and Monday assembly’s).
But let’s debunk that ‘dog is a man’s best friend’ theory properly.
When most people say they love dogs, what they really mean is they hate human interaction. Any guy I’ve ever met who keeps a dog really just wants an excuse to get away from his wife and drink lots of beer. If he gets to yell at a four legged furry canine that depends on him for everything in the process, that’s simply a bonus. I sympathize with all of those goals, but I can enjoy the same isolation by spitting in my bathroom sink. History reads that the Homo Habilis (clever human beings by the way) after discovering they could pee while standing and that they were not chimpanzees, systematically wiped out saber-toothed tigers and wolves the size of houses. We owe our survival as a species to the fact that nobody in the Stone Age was an environmentalist. What’s left of the wilderness today are the small, tame parts early man didn’t have time to kill off., and because they were passing that responsibility to a new generation. Dogs are our job. Trying to get in touch with nature by keeping a dog in the house is like attempting to experience real Latino life by watching Narcos.
Secondly… You feed the damn thing, it poops anywhere and everywhere, you clean its poop and walk it. I don’t know much about slavery but I think that’s how it works. You have to do all that for companionship? Basically, a human spouse can give companionship and thrill while at it, but you choose to play slave with a pet to get what the Bible has solely dedicated a verse to. You’re about to say a dog can be trained… right? A cat hides when it pees, and kills mice, without any syllabus. Just sheer inborn instinct. A dog scares away worthy suitors as me, eligible bachelors with no intention of robbing you. A dog costs Sh33000, which is the same price a PlayStation 4 costs.
I know ye dog owners do not agree with me. This is an argument of a literate, rather than a melancholic. And so far, society has proven that literacy belongs in the same class of societal ills as poverty and crime. I have read widely on these matters. But, being able to read doesn’t improve the world. It just makes people better informed about all the issues they’re powerless to do anything about. My uncle spends hours reading about politics, and the only thing it’s changed is his blood pressure and tolerance levels. MPs ignore informed and uninformed citizens alike, which is why democracy works (America chooses the leader of the world’s most powerful democracy in a decidedly undemocratic fashion, based on winning a particular combination of states rather than acquiring the most overall votes). And, dog owners will say “You just cannot understand it”. Yes. I won’t. I have no idea why the Bible, an inspired book, only mentions dogs in negative light, but whichever the reason, I stand with the writers of these verses.
So, friends, if they have dogs, just avoid them. Because when you break up, he will never text you back. You will cry on a pillow and he will cry with his dog. That’s what companionship means. Remember, I am as uninformed about dogs as you are about why ‘qwertyuiop’ appears in the Oxford English Dictionary and Okufuaf doesn’t.
Otherwise, as a closing statement, I’ll update you on what matters right now: Donald Trump is President in the USA (Americans would have done themselves a huge favour and save themselves some trouble and just pick a winner by coin toss), beer worth 140 shillings attracts tax of 84 shillings in Kenya (but the government arrests you for drinking before time, yet it’s their revenue you’re pumping up. Doctors are on strike, let people drink. You need it), girls look cuter after a breakup, we owe the human race an apology for duck face and Snoop Dogg’s real name is Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr. Enjoy the week ahead.
And if you know anyone who sells a dog, I need one. A puppy.