Is your Cockapoo listening to your Belle and Sebastian records while you're out?
by William Huffner
It's well documented that Cockapoos are more melan-collie than their namesake breeds may suggest. We've gotten reports from readers and breeders that suggest they’ve been hiding their emo side until the house is clear.
Here are 5 easy ways to tell if your Cockapoo is secretly listening to your Belle and Sebastian albums while you’re out running pandemic errands.
1. Your Thorens MKIV is totally jammed up with fur.
This is a CLEAR sign your Cockapoo has been rummaging through your albums and dropping needless on your collection, at the very least. This is what behaviorists call un drapeau rouge. With no opposable thumbs, these little terrors are going to be manhandl… uh doghandling(?) the needle trying to land in the groove just right and, in the process, getting their mange tangled in that beautiful Ortofon stylus or snagged by the mat and clumping in balls under the plate. Ugh...
2. The organizational system you created (kiss my ass, Melvil Dewey) is somehow out of sorts.
First off, everyone in the apartment knows not to touch your albums without explicit permission. Secondly, they all received a copy of your methodology explaining that your albums are sorted by a) RPM, b) alphabetical, c) 10-1 greatness ranking, and d) chronologically, should greatness ranking tie. How the hell does ‘Dear Catastrophe Waitress’ go after ‘Tigermilk’ (agreed) but BEFORE ‘If You’re Feeling Sinister’??? Something stinks here… and I’m getting notes of Farmers’ Dog and hints of total bullshit. Not cool.
3. Paw prints on the sleeve of your unopened copy of 'The Life Pursuit'.
If your suspicions were raised before this point, they are now entering a low-Earth orbit, churning your stomach in equal manner. Sure, it’s not their greatest album, but you bought 2, and you’ve held onto that unopened gem for 14 years and they clearly don’t respect the boundaries of a still-sealed retail LP. That kind of disrespect will inevitably spill into your personal relationship. If your Cockapoo is A-OK getting their filthy Pupperoni paws on your mint, sealed vinyl, it isn’t a big jump til they’re chewing your face off while you sleep.
4. Your Cockapoo has shifted their barking and howling up an octave or two over the past few weeks.
While it may be admirable and even endearing that this little ball of fluff is so enamored with the dulcet soprano vocals of Stuart Murdoch, this is a glaring admission that they have been dipping into your LP stash and karaoke-ing while you’re out trying to score surgical masks and Lysol. And now they’re trying to sing his vocal styles in front of you?? The only thing worse than someone trying to karaoke Belle and Sebastian is someone trying to emulate them. STOP IT.
5. Your Cockapoo has been begging for extra OTC antidepressants.
We all know things got a bit heavy with ‘Song for Sunshine,’ but come on. Your life is primo and Isobel’s lamentations in ‘Is It Wicked Not To Care’ is not reflective of your life AT ALL. I appreciate where you’re coming from, but let’s be real… it’s me and you, Bonnie. You’re mine and I’m yours. Everything is gonna be OK. Let’s both agree that if either of us are feeling down, we take a minute and just listen to ‘Lazy Line Painter Jane,’ go for a walk, and take stock of what we have together, huh?
Let’s re-evaluate what’s really important in this moment and stop worrying about things beyond our control. At least for one afternoon. Those worries will still be there tomorrow. We’ll get to them. We all get anxious. We all get scared. But we can’t let those feelings drag us inside where we can’t share our minds and our feelings with others. We need to be free. We need to dwell on the positive and have hope for a brighter day. But if I catch you touching my fucking records again, I’m canceling your puppy play dates for a week.
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