What I Learned From Hiring Paparazzi For My Dog’s Funeral

Yeah, children are the future. Motherhood is a gift. Whatever. My kids are … fine, I guess. But my fuzzy baby has passed away and Snooki was the only thing in this world that I ever truly loved unconditionally. In order to move forward, I knew I had to honor her memory to the best of my abilities and show the world how much she meant to me. So I did what any reasonable dog owner would do and hired paparazzi for her funeral. I wanted to make sure my four-legged child threw off her mortal coil in the most outlandish, extra way possible—because it’s what she would have wanted.

And here’s what I learned.

A. My Neighbors Do Not Care That My Dog Is Dead

I tried to explain to my neighbors, loudly and often, just how much my sweet precious pupper had meant to me, but no one seemed to really understand. All I got were blank stares and insensitive comments like, “You mean the mutt that kept humping my garden gnomes?” and “Finally, I’ll be able to grow azaleas that don’t smell like dog turds!” Yes, Susan, that’s what matters right now. Your stupid shit-covered flowers. Others did show some concern, but always for the wrong reasons (yes, I am thinking of stealing your dog to ease my pain, but it’s just a fantasy used as a coping mechanism so you don’t have to worry, let alone make it a thing).

B. A Celtic Burial For A French Bulldog Is Not An “Acceptable” Excuse For Violating Parking Laws

Funerals are not happy affairs to begin with. Now imagine mourning the loss of your soulmate while your neighbor Frank keeps screaming about how he’s late for work because a line of cars and a bunch of paparazzi are blocking his tacky driveway where he keeps his even tackier Ford Taurus. I understood that this might inconvenience a few people, but I also understand priorities. A fact that was obviously lost on Frank. He called the police and those heartless charlatans took his side. They said I was breaking like six local traffic laws and making a lot of people “deeply uncomfortable.” I tried to explain to them that this was all my neighbors’ fault for not properly commiserating with me over the loss of my pet (see section A) but they refused to listen to reason. The only way they’re getting me to pay for those parking fines is if they pry the money out of my cold, dead hands. I know when I’m in the right.

C. I Am No Longer Welcome In My Neighborhood Pet Store

You cry into the soft, inviting fur of a miniature poodle one too many times and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a danger to yourself and the local corgis around you. I have had no fewer than 17 dog adoption applications rejected in the past three months. People walking their dachshunds cross the street to avoid me.

I just may steal that Yorkie from three houses down after all.

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