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At one point, I even came up with a half-baked plan to play with a lit firecracker so I could get blinded just enough to merit a super-smart seeing-eye dog like in Follow My Leader
In fairness, I should mention that my family actually did have a dog. But Choo-choo was sixteen years old, blind with cataracts, and pretty much just liked to sleep. Sure, she was gentle, tolerant, obedient--but what did that matter when she was old and couldn't do any cool tricks?
She weighed about twelve pounds, so I couldn't ride her like Belle from "Belle and Sebastian," or Falcor from The Neverending Story.
She couldn't talk, like Poochie
She wasn't a scrappy ragamuffin from the streets, like Boomer, or Benji, or Sandy from Annie
She lacked heroism. She was never going to save me from imminent danger, like Chips the War Dog
She also was not an alien. There went my "Fluppy Dogs
After reading Julie of the Wolves like a how-to guide then coming home to watch "Lassie
Why did the '80s have so much dog-centric programming? Was it to ensure against a new generation of Cat People? Was it to make the allergic kids feel even more unloved? Or was it just to put us off guard, so that when we were all subjected to Sounder
Lesson learned:
Of course, when your dog goes all Old Yeller on you and dies, you could always revive him, per Frankenweenie.
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