As some of you may know, I own a purebred dog that is an affront to God. I own a Welsh corgi. For those of you who are not familiar with these dogs, they look like a cross between a dachsund and a collie, combining the weirdest elements of both breeds into a sort of canine lowrider that could only evolve in the genetic miasma that is an island ecosystem. It is as if one day, the people of Wales looked to the heavens and screamed, "We will create a beast that is the platypus of herding, you divine bastard, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

My dog's legs are so short that two different people--one of whom is a respected local weather man--have screamed when she started walking because they thought she was laying down. The animal has even been described by one of my colleagues as a "roving toupee".

Now not only is this dog an affront to God, it is an affront to its own breed. It is what is not as a "fluffy", meaning that it has a genetic anomaly that makes its fur very long and fuzzy, unlike the short, sleek coat that is the breed standard. This longer coat is actually considered a defect, and these dogs were often put down when they were born because farmers didn't want to deal with the problems the longer coat caused. The breeder my wife and I purchased the dog from informed us that because of this "defect", we would never be allowed to show the dog in competition. Damn.

In addition, farmers would dock (or, as some would call it less euphemistically, "amputate") corgis' tails. Apparently, the tails would often be stepped on and broken by cattle, and the docking of said appendages would prevent this from being a concern. The tails are typically docked three days after the puppies are born. My wife and I had been in contact with a breeder with a dog that was expecting a litter, and we asked if it would be possible to have a puppy whose tail had not been brutally severed. The conversation went something like this:

Us: "Is it possible to not dock the tail on our puppy?"

Her: "No, we have to dock all their tails because we don't know which puppies we'll keep for competition, and they have to have their tails docked to compete. Once we figure out which ones aren't good enough to show, we'll give one of those to you--but the tail will already be gone."

It's nice to know right off the bat that your dog is such a loser, they won't even let it in the game. She continued:

Her: "It's a shame, because you just get them past the danger point and then you completely traumatize them again."

Us: "What do you mean by 'danger point'?"

Her: "A lot of corgis die in the first few days after being born."

Us: "Why?"

Her: "They're notorious for being born without the will to live."

Perfect. So we were willingly entering into an arrangement to accept a suicidal amputee as a pet. It's somewhat comforting to start off a relationship with absolutely no expectations. By the time the conversation was over, I was no longer worried about housebreaking or training the animal--I was going to be happy if we could simply get it home without it exploding in the car.

Once when my wife and I were out of town, the dog ate an entire roll of dental floss while our house sitter was sleeping. Of course, the floss became tangled in the dog's tiny, canine intestines, and began to cut her apart from the inside. I can't shake the feeling that the little mongrel was simply trying to end it all, and, lacking the opposable thumbs to hold a razor or open a bottle of valium, floss is simply the weapon of choice when your corgi decides to "go Cobain". (Incidentally, I can no longer floss without feeling the Reaper's cold hand on my shoulder.) Thousands of dollars worth of surgery later, our dog had a horrible scar and a new lease on life.

So today we did what we have to do each spring, we had our dog shaved. Its genetically inferior coat is so voluminous, it can actually lead to heat stroke in the summer months. Thus, our suicidal dog has been stripped naked. With its short legs, short fur, and gigantic head, the animal now looks like a mongoloid ferret. 

It also kind of looks like a dingo--the sad, midget dingo that none of the other dingoes would share their baby with.

I can't help but think that natural selection is just around the corner.