Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight: Ma’am and the dog dating App…

Our dog recently died. I sent out a text to inform friends. I cried and slept for two days. I checked my phone and there were HUNDREDS of messages. I don’t have that many friends. The messages turned out to be from dog adoption sites. (Will figure out which genius friend thought this a good idea and end friendship!) Now I understood how my single friends felt when they complained about dating sites.

The barrage of nonsense and RIDICULOUS pictures would make anyone swipe left for the rest of their lives. Fritz dressed in a party hat beckoned me to adopt him. I scrolled down. He was 15.5 years old. A three-legged guy with some sort of growth on the top of his head that needed to be shaved down once a month by the vet. He looked like an old unicorn. I can barely get to the nail salon to have my hooves scraped never mind taking a geriatric- dog to get his horn shaved monthly.


Then sliding into my DM was a little guy named Javier. He was two years old and looked like a toad. But his little toad face was drawing me in. I went through his bio and found out he was located in Mexico. Saved from the mean streets of Mexico City in a gang with a pack of stray dogs. I looked at Javier’s picture again. I wondered was he the leader of the pack? Or merely one of the grunt men? Behind his docile face perhaps lurked Cujo that would murder us in our sleep by chewing off our faces. I also noticed that the adoption fee was $275.00. But. farther down the total was $2,456.00. Apparently, this included Javier and his chaperone’s airfare, and then a five-star hotel stay for his chaperone. There was even a spa fee tacked on there.


I then moved on to Felix. he was not house trained, was not good with other dogs, and seemed to not be a fan of people in general. His mug shot, I mean profile pic had him posing with a Hannibal Lecter-type muzzle attached to his face.

I found myself darting my tongue back and forth and exclaiming: “Fava-beans!”. My index finger was EXHAUSTED from swiping left!


Prince of the city was next to present himself. He was in a ludicrous outfit. I almost wrote an email to his adoption agency referring to them as Prince of the city’s pimps. The shots of Prince were like looking at what I imagine dog porn to be. Prince seemed to have a healthy libido and didn’t discriminate who or what objects he humped. His caption said: “Felix enjoys cuddling!” (if that’s what you want to call dry-humping.)” He also is happy to take walks on the beach and be fed by hand table scraps. He lives for belly rubs and overall body rubs.” (EW!) “Prince enjoys licking feet! A long day at work? Come home, rip off those socks and let Prince lick away!” (code for Prince has a foot fetish.) The final shot of Prince of the city was his face buried in someone’s crotch with the caption:”Raider of the lost crotch!”. Confused Husband mosied by and asked what I was looking at? I replied:”Dog-porn.”


Hours later I was exhausted, each photo melting into the other. The absurd captions and cheesy snapshots seared into my brain. I felt like I would have PTSD from this experience for years to come. I called one of my girlfriends who was registered on every possible dating site, to commiserate with her. I read aloud some of the captions and she swore she dated a few of these dogs in human form. I heralded her for being such a brave warrior on the dating app abyss. I applauded her diving into this stew of nonsense world. I asked her for exercise tips to strengthen my index finger. Hours later, under her tutelage (I now know how Daniel-San felt under the guidance of Sensai Miyagi.) I went back out there into the dog app-dating world. It was like a train wreck. I couldn’t turn away.


Brandy popped up on my screen. If Tammy Faye Baker were a dog, Brandy was her doppelgänger. I was fascinated by the amount of make-up slapped on this pooch. Mesmerized by her eyelashes, wanting to know what brand false eyelashes Brandy AKA Tammy Faye was using. This is what it came down to, me reading dog adoption websites like I was reading Cosmopolitan for makeup tips! Brandy according to her story liked to frolic with other dogs and cats as well(she didn’t discriminate.) this meant that Brandy was a Loosey-goosey a Ho if you will.

I didn’t want a hooker for a dog. There were photographs of Brandy in the middle of a pack of dogs like the drunk cheerleader at the party being gang banged by the football team. Brandy under some dog named Mo who looked like that elderly perverted Uncle back in the day. In a moment of weakness, I almost swiped right to be Brandy’s advocate. But, common sense prevailed. I didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with a promiscuous, moral-less furry chic who albeit had great eyelashes, was too much for me.
Left swipe it is.


Audrey Hepburn appeared. In place of a collar, she had on a smashing set of pearls. (I hope they came with her! I have an outfit they would be perfect with!) Audrey had a Holly Go-Lightly Je ne sais quois look on her face. She knew how to work the camera. Her bio read: “A city girl, who likes to explore. A real lady! House trained and leash trained.” (Audrey Hepburn was looking promising.)

“Gets along well with others, extremely friendly!” (Wow! the more I read about Audrey Hepburn the more I fell for her!). This was too good to be true!

I imagined myself sitting in a cafe with Audrey both in matching pearls. Walking through the city like two characters from Sex and the city. I was just about to swipe right when the fine print at the end of Audrey’s fairytale turned into a nightmare.

It read: “Please note Audrey Hepburn needs a home that will allow her to continue her weekly therapy sessions with her psychiatrist to help combat depression.” ( so her Je ne sais quois look was her being strung out on Lexapro!) I attempted to visualize me explaining to Confused Husband that we needed an extra four hundred dollars a week so Audrey Hepburn could visit her therapist because she was depressed. Like that would go over real well! How do they even know she is depressed?! Does she lay down on the couch and what talk to her shrink? “Well, today I am sad because I was fed kibble instead of filet. I don’t enjoy sleeping on a cushion. I feel naked when I go out and would prefer clothes.”I mean… ABSURD!


Right now I give up. There is no replacing our sweet Jack. He was the OG of dogs. He was loyal, sweet, lovable, cuddly, kind, and just didn’t ask for anything other than love. He was a valued member of our family and made all of the nonsense that exists in the world more bearable. He didn’t judge, was there through good times and bad.
Let’s put it this way, if Jack had been on this dog dating app I would have swiped right a million times over…

Published by

Kat Akcakanat

Wife, Mother, Teacher, Artist, Writer, Friend.

5 thoughts on “Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight: Ma’am and the dog dating App…”

  1. I’m so sorry that you lost Jack 😭🖤 I just lost one of my dogs and I feel you on the crying, sleeping, and irreplaceability (is that a word? It is now). Loved the raiders of the lost crotch reference and was cracking up at the dog porn part especially 😂 The whole concept of comparing finding a new dog to dating sites is hilarious.

    Like

  2. Such great one-liners in this one. The doggy apps (especially the “doggie porn”) seem like a nightmare, but thanks for making it fun! On a more serious note, so sorry about your Jack. I know that is not easy, and he seemed like a great dog!

    Liked by 1 person

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