Will You Accept This Golden Dog Bone?

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I pride myself on not just the quantity of reality television I endure (and by "endure," I mean thoroughly enjoy), but also the quality. I do not discriminate based on race, creed or stupidity. I simply enjoy all types of scripted, reality television (as any self-respecting young biddy should).

I have fully immersed myself into the surreality that lives on channels such as: Bravo, MTV and Logo. However, recently, I ventured into a new low (or, some may argue, a new high): ABC. I think you know where this is going.

The Bachelorette is my newest reality television venture. Many have watched it for years. I have heard loud (and moronic) whispers of this one for as long as I can remember. Never, however, did I ever find the time to take it up until recently. With a lull in television soiling my late May, I had no choice but to turn to something that has worked for so many idiots, for so long.

Before you read any further, you should know that this is not a post dissecting the social, racial and blatantly sexist and abrasively heteronormative ramifications of the show. I will leave that to basically any Women's Studies major to delve into on their senior thesis. No, this post is much more important... and I have been dying to get it off my chest.

Okay, back to The Bachelorette. Most people know the premise: a girl (or guy) gets the chance to sort through, mull over and sleep with a gaggle of men or women. At the end of the season, that individual is forced to pick ONE true love.

Then, the guy is supposed to get on one knee and propose to this woman that he is madly and irrationally pretending to be in love with. 

Yes, the show is filled with note-worthy gifs and awkwardly staged circumstances that can light up anyone's day. But, the show is really lacking that... je ne sais quois...

...oh wait, never mind, I know exactly what it is.

That's right. Dogs.

While I was watching JoJo and Chad toss a penny into a wishing well (as one does) and proceed to make out while soft, sensual music played in the background, I realized that the premise of this show would not only WORK with dogs... but it would flourish. The show would instantly improve in all respects.

A dignified, courageous canine would get the once in a dog-lifetime opportunity to pick their owner. Each of the humans must compete for the dog's affections during various dog challenges, dog walks and dog outings. The dog, at the end of the season, will pick the human that they feel most comfortable with, the human that makes them feel the most at ease, the human who can give them the best belly scratches.

The first night in the dog mansion, the dog will choose four owners that need to leave from the get-go. These will be the stank-ass bitches who brought lousy ass dog treats (non-organic humans can get the fuck outta here). Those who are chosen by the dog to stay will each receive golden dog bones. 

After my enlightened vision of The Bachelor: Canine Edition, I thought, why stop here? Why stop here when there are so few dog reality television shows being made? Why stop here when there is a dire need for this dog niche to be filled?

For one thing, can someone give me a good reason why there is not ONE cooking show for dogs? Instead of "professional chefs" as judges, why don't we ask the true connoisseurs? The dogs, dammit.

Allow me to set the stage: four accomplished chefs will compete to please three strict pomeranians with sophisticated palates.

Only one chef will survive these grueling eliminations. The winner will receive a $50,000 reward to PETCO (where the pets go!).

Let us take a page from one of the real housewives' books and give reality television a much-needed facelift. A facelift involving the cutest, most adorable animals on the face of this earth. Who could object?

Answer: only a monster.

XOXO,

Jules