Big Brass Ones

The Heartbreak of PDD

Because I have not wanted to cause him unnecessary embarrassment, because it is a very painful subject for both of us, and most of all because, frankly, I’ve only just recently seen how to capitalize on it, I have never before revealed to you that the biped suffers from a fairly advanced case of PDD—Personality Deficit Disorder. Which is why he so desperately needs me—I’ve got personality out the vent. Where he is shy and solitary, I am outgoing and gregarious. Where he is painfully self conscious, I am scarcely conscious at all. Where… well, you get my drift.

But, so what? you may well ask. What is there to capitalize on in a shameful (lack of) personality disorder?

Well, apparently, you can get yourself certified as a service dog on the strength of a lot less than that:

There is a sad (though hysterical, in the medical sense of the word) story in one of the forums about a “service dog” who was denied admission to a restaurant with her owners on Thanksgiving day. There is a great deal of information about the (literally) unbelievably callous behavior of the restaurant employees. There is lots of good stuff about the dog owner standing up for her right to bring her service dog into the restaurant. There are hints of law suits in the offing. But, oddly, there isn’t a word about just what sort of service this particular service dog performs. Is the owner blind? Is she deaf? Just what problem does the dog help her with?

Well, if you go to the dog’s page, you will discover that her service to her owner is that she alerts her (the owner) to her own (the owner’s) almost daily anxiety attacks. That’s right—without the dog, the woman would apparently not know she was having an anxiety attack. But with the dog… well, with the dog, evidently, she is spared the living hell of not knowing she’s anxious. Or something.

But, please, don’t get me wrong. It is certainly not my intent to make fun of or offend anxiety-attack-alert dogs. I’m sure they’re among the swellest of the swell.

My point is that I do a lot more for the biped than just alert him to his personality deficit; I actually supply the deficit myself. And if that isn’t good enough to get me into restaurants, theatres, and cocktail lounges throughout the greater metropolitan Spreckels area, I don’t know what is. From now on, I’m on him like crazy on PETA!