Gone to the Dogs

This madness has to stop.

I am a dog nut who doesn’t own a dog. I have the ashes of beloved Lee Roy in drawer and I occasionally peek in and say, “stay!” and he always does, so I tell him “good boy”. Yup, nut alright.

smiling golden-coated mutt

The will of Alexander McQueen, the fashion hero who, distraught over the death of his Mother killed himself last year, bequeaths $82,000 to each of his dogs. It’s the same amount he left to each godchild and niece and nephew. He left behind a $26 million fortune and most of it went to charities and nice little $400,000 chunks to each of his siblings. But what dog on what planet needs $82,000?

Yes, yes, it’s his money and he can do with it what he wants. But it’s kind of nutty. Why not make arrangements with someone you trust to take the dogs in and pay them the money? I mean, without opposable thumbs, how is a dog supposed to swipe a debit card or punch those tiny little number buttons? And really, if you’re the dog of a fabulous designer, don’t you already have all of the capes and sweaters you need?