If you've been reading our blog and think we're spoiling Bryson absolutely rotten, you may change your mind after reading this article in the San Francisco Chronicle yesterday:
"Pets in America have $40 billion spent on them by their owners".
According to this article, San Francisco is where you can find pooches sporting $5000 diamond-studded Cartier collars, rolling in luxury sedans- in the front seat, and strutting into the downtown Bloomies with their humans for some serious retail therapy.
So we're perfectly justified when we buy Bryson an occasional doggie cupcake and take him on vacations with us every so often. And yes, he rides in an Audi- but he always sits in the back- perfectly appropriate for a well-behaved doggie.
And what makes San Francisco the super dog-centric city it is? The article explored several theories, and one that especially strike a note with us is the fact that there're more DINKs here than anywhere else in the country.
DINKs?! Yes, I said DINKs. Double-income-no-kid couples.
They're young, career-minded, enjoy an occasional night out, and doesn't want all the responsibilities that go along with having kids yet. And so they get a dog, a child substitute really, and focus all their time and energy and resources on it while escaping the worries about toxic Chinese toys and saving for college funds.
And yes, that sound very familiar to us. Why do we live here even though it costs all of our 4 arms and 4 legs?
It's because San Francisco has what all DINKs are looking for- a liberal and edgy climate where opportunities abound; a vibrant city with enough culture and good food to entertain you every night and day; and when you're sick of the city, you can drive half an hour in any direction and you'll find yourself immersed in the beauty of nature- mountain trails, ocean beaches, redwood forests- you name it, you got it.
In our minds it's really pretty close to having it all- us, Bryson, and the beautiful place we call home. That is, until the some-day child decides to barge into our lives and we become DINKs no more. That's when we buy a minivan and move to somewhere like Suburbia, TX. Ugh. (No offense, Texans. It's a joke, of course. Hmm.)
