I was reading Go, Dog. Go! by P.D. Eastman, enjoying the quaint dog love story interspersed throughout. If you haven't read this book, you should. It is all about dogs of various sizes and colors doing things like going in and going out and going up and going down and going around in cars, etc. There's a lot of going, hence, the title, I suppose. And, as I said, there is also a dog love story. Which basically goes like this:
These two canines continue to encounter each other in various places and situations, e.g., while riding their scooters, going through the same hat approval process each time they meet:
"Do you like my hat?"
"I do not."
"Good-by!"
Aw, such cute and witty dog banter.
Wait a minute.
WTH?
This dog is frankly, being a dawg, right?
Does he even know this chick? Is he REALLY making judgments about her based on her headwear? Does he HAVE to like her hat? I mean, maybe he'll NEVER like her choice of hats, but might enjoy her sense of adventure and her great dance moves. He may have a lot in common with her. They do keep bumping into one another, after all.
Perhaps he is just very sure of what he wants, and Miss Pink Dog's hats are not going to meet his criterion. At least, it seems that way, UNTIL.. he gets really wasted at a Big Dog Party and in his drunken stupor, goes gaga over said pink dog's insanely obnoxious party hat.
Now, we must be aware they DID leave the big dog party and ride off into the sunset together. Which, of course, means:
NOTHING ELSE HAPPENS.
EVER.
THE END.
And, while we are talking about that: I have never understood how the whole riding off into the sunset mystery works, exactly. How do we know that means everything is good and perfect for all of foreverdom? Unless, they literally rode off directly into a giant, flaming ball of sunshine, in which case they would have both been incinerated. And, that would be, in fact, the end.
In the case of Go, Dog. Go!, however, I imagine their story did not end, but continued the next day when a groggy, bleary-eyed dog woke up, pleased about getting some tail, stretched, licked his balls and did a double take when he realized, to his dismay, he had shared his quilted, super deluxe dog bed with the bitch who wore all the hats he hated. Oh, snap. He was definitely in the dog house now. OR... perhaps, he realized this girl was cool and fun and fabulous and he would look past her choice of head adornment because she was so awesome. It's really hard to say. They were most likely both incinerated by the sun.
I wonder, though... was Pink Dog searching for the right hat? Would Mr. Dawg ever really be happy with any hat? Did Pink Dog like his hats? She doesn't say, and he didn't ask. And, why does she keep asking him the same question? Maybe if she started up a different topic of conversation, yo... just sayin.
I think the moral of the story is:
Don't Try Too Hard.
Be Yourself.
Do Yoga.
Wear a Headband Instead of a Hat.
I suppose we all need to decide for ourselves just how many ugly hats we are willing to allow the people close to us to have. It is true enough we ALL have some pretty darn ugly hats.
But, just remember, kids:
If you go to a Big Dog Party, you have a good chance of going home with a dog.
Also: Don't write in your books.
DO YOU LIKE MY HAT?
