Why the Doggy in the Window Might Kill you

Even though you don't use it every day, it haunts you.

You can hear it crying from under every storefront. You can hear it in every squeak of Windex as a paper towel descends upon the windows of your home, of the homes of your family, or the stores at which you purchase non-doggy products.

Yes, you remember the doggy in the window, but what you may still not want to admit is that it may be associated with your death eventually. Deep inside of yourself, you know that this is true and that's why you never bought that dog. In fact, that's why you have only half-asked yourself in a silly sing-song manner that was never convincing, "how much is that doggy in the window?"

Anyway, just so you know, that dog is still there. And guess what? It's not going away. And guess what? Sooner or later, you're going to have to go back and visit it. And guess what? You're going to die eventually and your death may be associated with it.

Here's what might happen.

When you get to the window, look at the dog's eyes and you will see yourself. I don't mean that your face will be in the dog's eyes, but I do mean that the dog will have your face, and that the eyes are a good reference point when looking at the face, and that's why I told you to look at the dog's eyes. For instance, if I had told you to look deeply into the dogs paws, you would hardly be looking at it's face. So look at it's eyes and bear witness to your face.

But beware: It will look like the face of a dog, with black eyes, a cold pink nose, thick brown fur, drooling jowls. It won't look anything like you, so that's why I'm telling you now that it is your face and that you know it is and that it might ultimately, horrifically, be in some way connected to your death at some point.

Next, while looking at each other, sing the "doggy in the window" song very quietly, almost in a whisper. Sing it during the blowing of one of those really eerie winds that, when blowing down the dark and desolate street, reminds you just how sad you are, just how alone and very sad.

Now would probably be the best time to break the glass. Do this with a rock or a brick, or a potato, something you can throw.

Scream a lot and when the dog rises toward you, seemingly floating out the window in slow motion, note that his bottom has been sewn to a thick green thorny stem -- like that of a rose, only much thicker.

Note that this stem has taken root in the soil that has been neatly spread in the display case. The dog, at this point, can be described as some kind of strange dog-flower halfbreed, albeit somewhat top-heavy. As it approaches you, floating there, dumb, slobbering and cute, it will wobble and the stem with snap and it will fall to the concrete, right in front of you, and die.

If you find this image too awful to witness, you may faint and crack your skull on the street, lying in perfect symmetry with the dog, the blood from your head meeting the blood of the dog's head halfway between your heads, as it spreads on the street between your heads.

Or, you may find the whole thing so despairing that you will find the nearest bridge and plunge to your death. Or you may just go home and think to yourself, that was really fucking weird, live out all your days and die peacefully of natural causes.

Either way, there's at least a slight chance that you will die, and, that many years later, on a fateful, foggy night, a handsome, coy and mysterious detective in an overcoat might defy his orders to close the cold case and conclude that your death may or may not have had something to do with that doggy in the window and that no matter what it takes -- he will find out.