Saturday, February 19, 2005

Boku wa Hachiko desu

It's quite boring being a stuffed toy dog. For one thing, employment and education opportunities tend to be a bit thin on the ground for my sort, so you end up spending your days surfing the internet, browsing through the contents of your mistress' underwear drawer, or just plain staring into space. There's not a lot of scope for development for the more ambitious of us out there. No opportunities to make friends, play outside, or even walk down to the high street for a decent fry-up. No, just endless boring days locked in a tiny North London studio flat, with nobody and nothing for company, punctuated by long nights quietly asphyxiating underneath my mistress' doona as she snores beside me. Once in a blue moon my mistress will take me out, but surreptitiously; you know, like a married man sneaking out with his girlfriend.

It's not just the loneliness, either. Being an avid reader and information consumer (it happens, when you spend 16 of your 24 waking hours per day alone), it's come to my attention that toy dogs don't get nearly enough representation out there in the media.

Cynics will no doubt scoff and ask why the hell stuffed toy dogs need representation. Well, I wasn't intending to get all hard-line animist in my first post, but part of the problem is, I'm sick of being objectified. Specieism is still rampant in the 21st century. Women think they have it bad, but simple mathematics will tell you the Human Gaze is twice as oppressive. When I see, on the rare occasions my mistress takes me out, those greeting cards in the stationery shops with photos of dogs dressed up in stupid bumblebee outfits, I feel as though society's been put back a hundred years. It makes me want to puke. And not only am I a dog, but I'm a stuffed toy to boot.

So anyway, here is my first step towards defining myself outside of the accepted anthropocentric narratives. Welcome to my blog.


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