When We Were King's

The sanity tank of this world is fast becoming depleted. Yesterday I was witness a scene, or phenomenon if you will, so grave that it is imperative that I share it with you. It was yet another beautiful day in sunny SoCal so my wife and I went hiking. We were in a fairly populated area so 'hellos' and 'good mornings' were abundant. It seems everybody's cup is half full during a hike away from the daily grind.
Suddenly, and without warning we a came across three 20-something women and a little dog. I'm no dog whisperer, nor dog expert but if I were testifying in a court of law I'd say the k-9 was a brussels griffon. American Kennel claims that this breed is charming, curious and makes for a good companion dog. I, for one am not here to dispute their assessment. Rather, I must tell you that I was darn near overtaken by shock when I saw one of the three ladies carrying the dog. I mean heaven forbid that the poor doggie-soul should have to suffer and walk upon its own four legs in the great outdoors! Why, a pack of rabid coyotes could attack in broad daylight and assault the little guy. Or a giant eagle having not fed for a fortnight could swoop down and pluck up the little brussely rascal. Or worse yet, the dog might harm his cute little paws and claws on the incredibly smooth sandy man made path.
This is a new world people. A world where the dog's new natural habitat is the great indoors; a cozy prada purse or a $1200 down filled doggie bed. To quote the once great...ok half decent, Charlie Sheen, the dog is 'winning!' And man is swimming in a dark sea of subservient patheticism. (My word, poetic license and all that)
As I struggled to recover from my shock I convinced myself that what I witnessed was a fluke, a one-off if you will. Alas, my cloud of optimism was burst into a million tiny fragmants not ten minutes later when we came upon two more women; one carrying a chihuahua-something-mix. And to add insult to injury; to poke fun at the fact that my (and your) position on the food chain is dropping like a rock the little chihuahua looked at me smugly as if to say, 'hey there bipod how goes that activity that causes you to huff, puff, sweat and yearn for a cold beer?' In fact, I could have sworn he even...chuckled at me in that doggie way they sometimes do.
My wife and I scampered the remaining 400 yards of our hike, climbed into my truck and headed to the pub for a pint. We toasted briefly and then let the ice cold sweet nectar run down our throats to comfort our very souls. And it was then that I took pride in man's progress for the k-9 can't saddle up to a bar and order himself a doggie treat...not yet anyway. As long as we have cold pints waiting at the end of long hikes it is we who are 'winning'! But, dang is it ever a close race. Stay strong people and watch your 6, for man's best friend no longer has designs of wiping out the cat...nay, he's coming...for you!