The Lapdog

While I went through security at an airport in Vermont, the attractive lady behind me had nothing but a kennel with a cute yippy dog named Foxey. I tried to figure out what her deal was since she had some sort of temporary permit rather than a boarding pass. Where was she taking this dog?

She took a seat near me in the terminal, took Foxey out, and cooed to it in French. The plane that goes back and forth between NYC landed and I read a book while waiting for the passengers to get off so that I could subsequently board. A couple that I could tell was from Long Island before it came up in conversation deplaned and immediately became the center of attention as the woman shrilly screamed with excitement to see her new doggy.

Evidently, the couple had flown from New York just to pick up the puppy. The man was mostly silent, likely a learned condition from not being able to get a word in edgewise. The woman was awful in every way; I've never actually seen The Real Housewives of New York, but I'm pretty sure she'd fit in with that crew from my understanding of the show. "Lynette" as we'll call her, fake air kissed the dog's caretaker and screamed shrilly about how excited she was to get a new puppy. She took the dog into her arms, held it awkwardly by its butt so that it had no head support, causing Foxey to struggle to free itself from the unsafe, uncomfortable grip. At the first sign of struggle, Lynette commanded, "Take it!", dropping it in her husband's arms.

Lynette thanked the other woman, an employee for the breeder who had come to Vermont from Canada to transfer the puppy for making the trip. Lynette promised to be the best Mommy ever to the dog, rambling about some expensive dog supply store in the city, and claims to have bought "everything possible" from this shop, most notably a deluxe bed, large enough for a human adult. "It's so comfortable, I wish I could sleep in it. And I stay in only nice hotels, you know? It's that comfortable. Plus, I got her silk pajamas."

The breeder politely laughed about it sounds like the dog will be spoiled. "Isn't it great?!" Lynette responded. "I've bought things I don't even think a dog needs!"

Having delivered the dog, the breeder tried to excuse herself on numerous occasions, but Lynette kept saying, "Just a few more questions." Some questions were reasonable, inquiries about feeding and vets, but others were just ways of bragging. "Will she like it if I take it to a place to get doggy massages?" "I've been researching companies that make nice clothing for dogs, can you recommend any good ones?"

At some point, Lynette mentioned that she hated the name Foxey and was going to rename the puppy Maggie. "Maggie? That's the name of my boss' dog," the breeder said. "Oh, I know!" said Lynette. "That's the dog I had my heart set on. I saw a picture on the internet and I knew I wanted it, told him I'd pay anything. He said no because it was the family pet so he couldn't sell it, even when I kept increasing the offer. Finally, we negotiated that I would get one from the same litter. I'm naming it Maggie so I can just pretend it's the same one that I fell in love with."

Before she left, the breeder took the deposit of eight hundred dollars. I never heard how much the dog was in full, but if the deposit is $800, it must be pricey. They handed her the deposit, a bag with the money in cash. Although the breeder declined each time, Lynette told her it would be fine if she wanted to take it out and count it there in the terminal; I suspect she just wanted another way of flaunting her wealth.

Just as I thought I would finally get to leave the couple behind, they stood up with the dog and lined up to get back on the same plane. They had their lapdog and were ready to bring it back to NYC to its new posh lifestyle. In line, they told strangers how they had paid $750 for last minute plane tickets just to come get the dog. As luck would have it, my assigned seat put me in the row in front of this couple so I had to hear this horrid lady chat about the dog. The family across the aisle took an interest in the dog, which just encouraged Lynette further.

"I never thought I'd own a dog, they just seem so dirty. But a lot of rich people are doing it these days, you know, with the cute little ones. I love this breed because they're so rare. Years ago, only royalty owned these dogs because they're special. The dogs themselves were bred selectively, so it's like they have their own little royal bloodline!" I snickered. Some call that incest.

“Another reason I love this dog is because she’ll be bilingual. Since she was born, the breeder has just spoke French to her, so soon she’ll know two languages. I think knowing two languages is so important these days. Especially something nice like French. My daughter insisted on taking Spanish in high school, I didn’t understand that.” Maybe she could use the Spanish to speak to the help? Obviously, French is so must more practical to know in America than Spanish. And don’t get me started on the idea of a bilingual dog.

The other family was only able to reveal a few facts about themselves: the father owned a few restaurants in Quebec and they were all going on a vacation to NYC. Lynette wanted to recommend some restaurants for them to eat at. The father reminded her that he owns restaurants so he’s familiar with the scene, but Lynette would have none of it. She was so confident about her knowledge of New York City that she actually insisted that he “get out a pen! get out a pen!” until he obliged and did as he was told.

She spoke of one restaurant in particular. "But it has a strict dress code. We just went in for lunch this time and I was wearing jeans. These weren't just jeans, though, these were designer jeans and they weren't going to let me in. I started yelling that I spent a couple thousand dollars on these jeans and that I looked good in these jeans until they let us sit down. I think I might be the only person to have ever worn jeans in that restaurant!”

The flight couldn’t have landed sooner. I can’t recall encountering a phonier person in my life, someone so consumed with wealth and appearance. The dog might be living the most luxurious life a dog ever has, but I don’t think I envy it one bit.