Let me start this with a disclaimer. While many people close to me know I’m not the world’s biggest pet lover, I understand that even the most cynical among us get attached to our pets. When they pass away (see I didn’t say “die” – I’m sensitive that way), we miss them and mourn them like they were members of the family – because they were (kind of like that odd, flatulent aunt who sleeps on the floor in the sun and sniffs at herself).
Okay, that’s out of the way.
I re-activated my Facebook account to try to build my blog readership. Self-serving, I know, but it’s Facebook – not the Little Sisters of the Poor. In truth, the account was never deactivated, it will be active forever. You can’t kill a Facebook account, believe me, I’ve tried.
I found the world of Facebook to be chugging right along without me. When I suddenly reappeared on the site after more than a year away, there was no fanfare of trumpets or any such big deal. Many of the same people who were posting what they had for breakfast or other such trivial blathering, were right there where I’d left them. They were gloating about having just eaten the best bowl of steaming oatmeal known to man (Allow me to take a brief moment to “Like” Jimmy’s Diner in Newark, Delaware, home of the famous Bottomless Bowl of the World’s Best Oatmeal).
While I know I can’t change the way people use FB, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to make fun of some of the nonsense I see on there.
Today I went on and found the usual suspects, playing games and yakking about their grand kids, their breakfasts, their spiritual journeys and their grand kids’ breakfasts and/or spiritual journeys. One post I saw caught my eye. A friend of a friend (who wasn’t actually my friend), had posted something. The adage about “any friend of so-and-so is a friend of mine” doesn’t apply to online friends in my humble opinion. This person’s being a friend of a friend makes it permissible for me to find fault with how they live their FB lives, without actually insulting them, since they don’t know me.
Well, deal with it, because I’m doing it anyway.
Where was I?
This person posted that they missed their dog, who had passed away a year ago today. They wrote something along the lines of “R.I.P. Skippy! We miss you!”. I won’t bore you with a lengthy philosophical discussion about the canine afterlife. Suffice to say that, as a hopeless romantic, I can only hope that doggie heaven is filled with rolling meadows, unlimited tennis balls and no shortage of decomposing possums to roll around in. Come to think of it, I may have just stumbled upon what possum hell is like. Further discussion of possum hell will have to wait for another post.
One thing I know with an egotistically high degree of certainty is this; even in doggie heaven, dogs can’t read. Even if they could read, they would have a hard time getting the computer to go to Facebook – paws just don’t work that way. I know this is getting increasingly far-fetched – yuk yuk! Even if they could read, get onto Facebook and follow their former masters without technically friending them, why the hell would they? I thought doggie heaven was filled with old slippers to gnaw on and various unlimited butts to sniff. If Skippy has the option to be chasing squirrels and Buicks with Old Yeller and Rin Tin Tin, why in the world would you want him tied to a computer following you on Facebook?! Your poor, deceased Schnauzer-mix is finally off the leash and running wild in doggie heaven and you’re tethering him to the laptop like the rest of us?! You cruel bastard!
It doesn’t help your case that Skippy knows you went out and got that new puppy 3 months after he went onto the big kennel in the sky. Did you think he’d see your R.I.P. note from doggie heaven and not see those cute puppy snap-shots you posted a few months back? A Labra-doodle?! Seriously?! Skippy is barely cold and you went out and got that bitch?!
I hope you’re happy with yourself. It’s people like you who are causing a huge upswing in dog-related poltergeists in this world and the afterworld. Poor Skippy, he’s spinning in his grave out behind the garage right now. Rest in peace, my ass!