Who let the dogs out?
Well, that'd be everyone. Or so it seems sometimes.
Assuming I can shake this dizzying feeling of my head being in perpetual spin cycle, I will have argued Wednesday evening that dogs are, indeed, most iconically Whistler. If my arguments didn't prevail at the Whistler Museum's Icon Gone faceoff, it'll be the misguided fault of those in attendance... or my pathetic presentation... possibly both... but more likely I'll blame it on the audience.
After all, who in this town doesn't like dogs? Whistler is a doggone town. No question about it.
Now before you get all worked up over the fact that the Museum's event is called Icon Gone and, clearly, dogs are not gone in any sense of the word but in fact walk among us, let me explain. Yes, the original idea behind the event was to argue which of Whistler's various iconic people, places, things or events that are WITH US NO MORE were more iconic — whatever that means — than others. That idea lasted right up until the very first presentation many years ago. It was Stephen Vogler's fault.
At the first Icon Gone, Stephen argued in favour of gravity. Yes, gravity. The motive force that makes skiing more fun than, for example, floating aimlessly above terra firma like so many hot air balloons. He won, or perhaps more accurately, he beat me. I was arguing the Toad Hall poster was a true icon gone, notwithstanding the fact you can still see several of the participants more or less daily at Tapley's, fortunately clothed. But the fickle audience would have none of it and gravity won.
So don't give me any grief about dogs not being gone.
Why dogs?
Why not?
In a town where people grow old but not up, dogs are symbolically iconic of endless youth. Dogs make you feel like a kid. And like kids, some of us are irresponsible when it comes to dogs and some of us are grudgingly more responsible than others. But even the irresponsible ones — and you know who you are — add to the Whistler Experience. Particularly in spring. If it weren't for irresponsible dog owners, we wouldn't have the annual Poop Chronicles that appear each spring in the Letters section. I for one would miss them.
Everybody loves dogs. Even people who hate dogs love dogs. They just won't let themselves show it. Nothing melts even the most curmudgeonly heart like a puppy. If a puppy isn't enough, a puppy pile certainly will be. If it isn't, that heart has probably stopped beating and it's only obstinance keeping that shell of a person from falling over.
Outside the world of zombie curmudgeons, there is nothing as appealing as a cute, ball-o-fluff puppy. They don't call them chick magnets for nothing.
Suppose you're a run-of-the-mill Whistler workerbee, which is to say chronically broke. As long as we're supposing, let's suppose you happen upon a gaggle of highly attractive women draped across the hood of a shiny, say, Ferrari driven by some deadhead helicopter kid from Richmond whose absentee parents bought him an insanely expensive car to prove they love him enough to buy him something he'll probably kill himself in while they're back in Hong Kong making money and otherwise completely ignoring him. Have I set up a suitably offensive cultural stereotype?
All you have to do, assuming you'd like as much attention as the helicopter kid's Ferrari, is to walk up, pull a roly-poly, blue-eyed puppy out of your jacket and like magic, you'll — which is to say your borrowed puppy, thanks to WAG's Walk The Dog program — be the centre of undeserved attention.
How cool is that? Helicopter Kid: $135,000, no more women. You: $0 (which happens to also be your net worth) and lots of women wanting to pet your puppy. That's dog power.
To totally avoid being branded a chauvinist as well as culturally insensitive, women, it works the other way as well. Dangle a puppy on a string behind you and twice as many guys as usual will be falling all over themselves trying to talk to your chest... after they've petted your puppy.
Or course, puppies grow into dogs and, while not as cute, dogs are still unarguably wonderful. Dogs can do almost anything. They can play more games than you can think up, as long as you can't think up games more complicated than fetch. They can do tricks. They can drive cars, sort of. They can follow you slavishly on arduous hikes. Try that with a cat.
And no matter what you do, dogs will love you. Your dog will love you long after your girlfriend/boyfriend has told you to drop dead. They'll love you more unconditionally than your mother loves you. They'll love you if you forget to feed them, at least for a while. They'll love you if you're too busy to take them for a hike or play ball with them and they'll never need psychotherapy later in life to understand the problem was you, not them. They'll love you if you beat them... but don't do that. Ever.
Now, there are people who will, about now, wonder why I don't put in a good word for cats. These people are, of course, crazy. Dogs are companions; cats are only around to remind us how unimportant we are. If you die in your sleep, you're dog will lie, heartbroken, by your side, maybe licking you occasionally, hoping you'll awake.
Your cat will eat you.
That dogs are iconic to Whistler is empirically demonstrable. We still tend to report the full-time people population of Whistler as roughly 10,000. The number of dog licenses in Whistler — arguably a rough estimate since the database seems to be based on technology just slightly more sophisticated than an abacus — is around 600. Given the average Whistlerite's likelihood of obeying duly promulgated bylaws — the Coefficient of Lawfulness — a more accurate estimate of the real dog population of Whistler is almost a quarter of a million.
In any given year, Pique runs approximately 23 person obituaries and well over twice that many dog obituaries. Since it's inception, the ratio of dog to people obituaries has held relatively constant at 36:1, people obituaries being a relatively recent phenomenon.
You can't argue with statistics.
According to local divorce lawyers and family counsellors, divorcing couples in Whistler fight more viciously over custody of the family dog(s) than their children.
And if you really need any more convincing, dogs, CARDA dogs, are the only animals allowed on the mountains. They'll even find you in an avalanche... although they'll want you to throw their ball when you're dug out.
Dogs rule.
