Well, it seems most everyone has weighed in on Michael Vick’s situation.
You know it’s bad when Alberto Gonzales uses the controversy to try to downplay his stepping down. (Or maybe he timed it to be when “The Daily Show” was on break. Coincidence?)
But the one group who mattered most during this debacle has yet to voice their opinions. And I don’t mean the fans. Or Keith Olbermann. Or his family, who I suspect will find some way to sue him over this.
No, I mean his dogs. (Not to be confused with his posse. Yes, I used the word posse.) Where are the words, the pleas, the howls and screams demanding retribution or at the very least attention?
Well, since no one else is going to do it, I’ll speak for them.
Dear Man-who-feeds-me,
Where you been, dog? I haven’t seen you since before spring training.
It’s been so long, I can’t remember if the last time you touched me was to pet me for doing a good job in the ring, slap me for digging up your special plants or play that new game with those – what do you call those things – battery cables. Those things made me froth up more than the dog Atticus Finch shot.
Oh, yeah, I heard you were going away for a while because of all those games you played with me. Don’t feel bad. You and I are a lot alike. We both got to perform while crazy screaming humans circled around us with beer in their hands.
Sure, we both had people bet on us and lose money. But that’s why they’re really mad at you. You gambled. They just don’t understand that happens where we’re from – the streets.
It’s not like you can just give up one life and go live with a new pack of wolves, right? I mean, that only happens with Tramp and his lady. But why didn’t you just have one of your mutts take the wrap?
I mean, why not throw a dog a bone? You could’ve slid a few snacks his way and made the whole thing disappear – like that magic water bottle. Man, I could’ve played with that thing for hours, rolling it around on the floor and all.
Oh, I did see you in that picture box today. Man, your teeth were so clean and your coat was so shiny. Why did you have your head down? Were you sad? It looked like someone had rubbed your nose in something you did.
One of the other hounds said you were going to the pound for a while. I know how it is to go to someplace new, dog. Just don’t let some crazy mutt hump your leg in there. Or someone put you to sleep – if you know what I mean.
And when you get out, I’ll be waiting. I’ll always be loyal to you no matter what anyone says. Especially Saints fans.
Your friend,
Spike
Kind of makes you sad, doesn’t it. Don’t get too teary-eyed, though. Before you know it, Britney, Lindsay or Paris will do something horribly stupid.