The Luv Doc: Dogs & Toddlers

Dear Luv Doc,

Last Sunday afternoon me and my wife went with some friends to an East Austin brewery that we frequent. Unbeknownst to us, they had invited another couple we hadn’t met and they said they would be meeting us “a little later.” We didn’t protest, but it seemed a little rude that they didn’t check in with us first. I guess the more the merrier, right? My wife and I got there early, saved a large table, and bought a pitcher of beer. Our friends arrived a few minutes later and complimented us on getting the table because it was already getting crowded. We had a few beers and about 30 minutes later the couple we hadn’t met arrived ... with three dogs. They asked if we would mind if we sat outside because of the dogs. It was the middle of the afternoon and hot, and there are always lots of children running around outside screaming at this brewery and so I politely declined. I could tell my wife was really upset, but I wasn’t interested in going outside and sweating in the heat so these people could show off their dogs. Long story short, I sat inside until my wife was miserable enough to want to go home, which we did about 30 minutes later. It’s been almost a week now and she is still mad at me. I don’t get it. How am I the bad guy here?

- A Villain for Chillin’

If I’ve said this once, I have said it a few hundred times at least, but neither dogs nor toddlers can hold their liquor. Parents and dog owners are pretty sus in that regard as well, but they have way better motivation to keep it together. Dogs and toddlers though? They’re off the chain – both figuratively and literally – especially when they’re running around swiping swigs from vaguely herpetic looking rando strangers’ IPAs. Now, I will freely admit I have only seen that happen at a brewery one time, but judging by the behavior of most toddlers I see at breweries, they’re all clearly getting crunk. There is no other reasonable explanation.

And look, I am not trying to play the blame game here. If anyone has a good excuse to catch a hard buzz, it’s definitely toddler parents. I will throw purebred dog owners under that bus as well. They seem pretty fucking stressed for no apparent reason. Maybe it’s because no one gives a shit about the purity of their pets’ bloodline – certainly not drunk people actively medicating to dull the insanity of their wilding progeny. Also, why do we tolerate genetic engineering in pets – to the extent of weird deformities (I’m looking at you, English bulldog) – when we don’t allow it in humans? There are obvious exceptions, of course: European royalty, certain remote hollers in Appalachia, large swaths of Idaho, and the mostly defunct Nazi party. I say “mostly defunct” because those cousin-fucking neo-Nazi nitwits keep popping up on street corners dressed in fetish wear, waving swastika flags, and complaining that they could probably get laid if only everyone was white. Gross. And you thought English bulldogs were ugly.

Anyway, like I told the stridently righteous fellow last week, you are correct. Showing up with dogs and expecting – or even asking – everyone to sit outside on a hot day is a massive dick move – the exact kind of appalling behavior one would usually ascribe to a sociopath. The rules of civility are very simple: Don’t fucking make your problem someone else’s problem without at least showing the common courtesy to ask first if it’s OK. I get it. I know people think their pets and children are adorable, and to be fair, there is a percentage that actually are, but at least a modicum of self-awareness goes a long way. If your emotional support animal looks like a goddamned feral hyena, don’t get all self-righteous when some normie checks your shit.

OK, so back to your wife: You fucked up. No. Seriously. You did. When she shot you that glare that said, “Stop being a dick,” you should have picked up your beer and happily marched out to the sweatshop, because that’s what supportive spouses do. Then you could have both railed all the way home about what assholes those dog owners were. Instead, your chill afternoon got even chillier – and for what? Bragging rights that you’re not a chump? Get the fuck out of here ... and go tell your wife you’re sorry you didn’t stick with her when things got heated.