How Jewish Hollywood wanted Marley & Me

I moved into a new apartment a couple weeks ago and my roommate has this very cute dog (a puggle, in case you were curious), which I’m sort of a surrogate co-owner in a way right now. What’s strange about the relationship between me and the dog, however, is that I find myself acting like my own Jewish mother towards it.

Considering that the dog has two male owners – neither of whom are anywhere close to homely or responsible – I think I’m subconsciously taking a motherly role towards her. The problem with that, though, is that the only mother I would know how to be is a Jewish one.

Call PETA now. This is a more serious issue that Michael Vick or any of those crazy desperate and simply lonely women who have sex with their dogs (not that the dogs probably mind this, mind you). The last thing this dog, or any dog for that matter, needs is a Jewish mother figure in its life.

The dog will never go for a walk. I’m going to make her so paranoid that she could get hit by traffic at any second because there are so many crazy drivers out there. But then when she sits around all day, I’m going to guilt her into being a lazy oaf on such a beautiful day. It being Los Angeles, there are nothing but beautiful days. Although this will cause the sunlight to get in those crazy drivers’ eyes, so the dog should put on a helmet, but then the other dogs will make fun of her.

This is why there are no Jewish dogs, because their Jewish mothers make them so undesirable to breed with and they can’t compensate with sarcasm like adorable little Jewish boys such as myself.

My dog doesn’t have issues. But she soon will. And we’re the chosen people.

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