I-Doodle Triumphs

                                                            This is Rozy. She is our wookie of a dog, Gilad 

                                                             and my mother's pride of joy, their little angel,

                                                             perfect pooch i.e. suck-up extrodinare, 

                                                             manipulative I-Doodle. 


I have come to a very simplistic conclusion that my mother loves the dog more than her own children. The amount of  “doggy-talk” (definition of “doggie talk:” similar to baby-talk, only you have a little more of a speech impediment with the sound of an “R,” and it’s a little more embarrassing because you aren’t talking to a human) that occurs in our house daily is surely enough to make you throw up…or at least wonder why the woman with a PH.D and a man with an M.D. (Gilad) still have yet to correct their speech impediments. I get the pleasure of hearing this talk approximately 14/24 hours of the day to this so-called “perfection” of a dog.

I judge this “perfection" based upon the fact that Rozy  is the result of a breed called an “I-DOODLE,”and because we all know Apple is taking over the world, she is treated with a higher level of love because of the fact that she is 1/3 “I” ( = Irish Setter) and not just the average Golden Doodle.

We all know Apple is just coning us successfully time and time again with each “new” release of the latest gadget, when really they are just simply releasing an under- equipped product. Unfortunately, by the time they release the damn thing, there are already rumors circulating about the latest upgrade you can get for the gadget you just paid way too much money for. As consumers…we are complicit to the con and I am convinced that Rozy is far more liked in the family because she is just coning Cathy Cohn and Gilad Gordon, but like those Apple PR people…she’s damn good.

So here’s the Rozy situation:

1. Rozy has numerous Neiman Marcus beds. One of these beds came with a free I-Touch (ironic…right?). I recently was allowed to shop at Neiman Marcus for some interviews I had in New York, but was told I was returning every clothing item once those interviews were over…so I better keep those tags on, sit like I have a stick up my ass or steam-the-shit out of those wrinkles before returning them to the store. Rozy, on the other hand, still is luxuriously lounging in her Neiman Marcus plush beds, acting superior to me…the daughter…the human.

2. I don’t understand the level of excitement, the “doggie voice,” that high-pitched squeal that comes from being away from Rozy for too long (too long meaning more than an hour).

Why don’t I get that voice? I’m not the one who sniffs other butts, licks their own privates and lays down on the counter-tops when no one is looking. Maybe I will try shaking my butt, shove a stuffed animal in my mouth, awkwardly cry whenever my mom gets home, and see if she comes to the dog or me first.

3. Rozy is a socially awkward misfit…which I myself have never been! I should totally be top-tier to her. According to many of my teachers during parent-teacher conferences when my mother would ask how I was doing, they would say “well…Liza sure is popular and likes to talk amongst her classmates,” (this changed in High School, but I’ve blacked high school out of my memory so it doesn’t count). Ok, so when I take our “flawless” dog to the dog park, I witness countless sad attempts to make friends, be part of the team, to be chased by other dogs. It’s honestly not even sad. It’s plain laziness if you ask me! It’s immaturity on Rozy’s part (granted she is a year and a half old), but common…make a little effort!

4. Rozy for some reason is allowed in my moms closet. Often times when Rozy gets a little distraught she likes to drag my mom’s jackets and shoes down from her closet and leave them all over the house (without asking I may add). My mom usually looks at her with the “your so bad, but that’s so cute how much you missed me” and completely neglects to impose any sort of discipline. When I…the child whom she gave birth too simply “borrow” something from the closet…I am asking for my death wish.

No one set in stone how long of a duration the term “borrow” defines by the way, when I “borrow” something from my mom’s closet and it isn’t there for awhile it is just because she hasn’t emphasized “how long” the borrowing period is for!

5. Another recent incident of this disruptive, non-disciplined behavior was actually this evening when my mom and I decided to go eat dinner in Whole Foods. While we were in the store for roughly 30 minutes, Rozy decided to eat my moms cell phone charger attached to her car. What did my mom do? Zero. She simply looked at Rozy and asked her “what did you do?” in that doggie voice and proceeded to drive.

I am just assuming here, but if this scenario was reversed and I were do of destroyed and/or eaten my mothers phone charger…I feel as though I would be disciplined a lot harsher, as well as had to pay for the damages. I may have been thrown in a psych warn for knawing on car toys, but…that’s besides the point completely.

The point is…the dog is loved more than me. End of story. If you need more examples, I would be happy to write more. Just ask.

I knew we should of stuck to a pure-bred golden retriever. 

Clearly...we all know who is the worlds best dog, the smartest of the pack. This is MJ. MJ doesn't take anything for granted, is the most perfection a human could get out of a dog. Look at those blonde locks of beautiful fur, just waiting for someone to pet her. I am going to completely contradict myself in my blog and say that I love this dog more than any other human on the planet. It's totally different though. She's a pure-bred.

This is Rozy with her Step-Sisters Ripley (Right) and MJ (Left)...I.E. All the loves of my life, but mostly the one on the right because I trained her to take peoples hands off when they have a ball that she obviously wants.