We all know what day today is – THURSDAY , so it's the day I get to take all of my negativity from the week and channel it into one little neatly packaged post. I must be in a good mood today or something, because I really only have one tangent (although I might think of more as I write).

I don't consider myself "a dog person." There. The confession is out. I usually like MY dogs. When I was in second grade, my family purchased a black lab from a local breeder and I think I borrowed every animal/pet/dog related book in my school library, and most of the books at the town library too. But that quickly grew old once we acquainted ourselves with the new puppy, whom one trainer affectionately nicknamed "The Dog From Hell."

OK, I'm lying a little bit. She did grow on me, as did our next dog. And so do my cousins dogs and my friends' dogs, but I am definitely not one of those people who sees anything on a leash walking down the street and immediately turns into putty on the sidewalk. I don't like it when dogs lick me, or slobber on me, or shed on me, and I don't like being pulled by them or tangled in their leashes. I don't like dog smell and I can't stand the scent of the inside of a pet store. I do like it when a puppy wags its little stub tail at you because it's happy to see you, or when a dog leaps from the couch to greet you when you walk in the front door.

AND most importantly, I do have compassion for animals. I donate to the North Shore Animal League (OK, I did. Once. I'm not exactly rolling in dough here, people, I live in the NY metro area. Every little bit helps). I have compassion for abandoned dogs, for injured dogs, for sick dogs. But most of all, I have compassion for purse dogs. More specifically, celebrity purse dogs.

Dogs were not meant to be shoved in carriers under airplane seats or at nightclubs in L.A. (We can only assume that they were headed there).

I'm not going to bore you with a list of reasons why I think it's lame to stuff your pet in a handbag and bring it to the movies, or to a premiere, or even to a nice restaurant to rest comfortably in your Louis Vuitton. Instead, I'll leave you with these:

I rest my case.