Here is a story for you.

We begin with Alice, walking her dog, listening to her iPod. Not bothering anyone. Turning the corner, she sees a small, furry blur rushing toward them. A dog, a comically tiny dog, is running out of a backyard, and headed right for Charlie. It's trailing a leash, so she figures the owner must be somewhere behind it.

Charlie, who is not a lover of other dogs, promptly freaks, attempting to get as far away from the other dog as his leash will allow. Alice tries to continue on, but the dog follows. Where is the owner? No one is showing up to explain why this puffball of a dog is free to accost the general public. The dog, whom Alice has named Teeny, appears to want to play, but the playing is taking the form of nippy neck-lunges. Charlie assumes that the dog wants to tear open his carotid. Unable to make a run for it, he finds himself running in frantic circles around Alice. Teeny follows. Yay! Fun times! thinks Teeny. (Actually, Teeny is probably thinking "tththththththththththththth" because Teeny has a brain no bigger than a nail clipping.) Having grabbed Teeny's leash, Alice is now thoroughly tangled. Her earphone cord somehow gets involved with the leashes. It's chaos. "Hello?" Alice calls out to the empty street. "Whose, uh, dog is this?"

Charlie backs away and slips out of his collar, freeing himself, and darts into the street. Teeny tries to follow. Alice screams for him to return, but he's no fool. And go back to that tiny scrabbly thing who wants at his precious neck parts? No thank you. He can still be seen at the far end of the block, peeing on a bush, eyeing that hateful tiny thing. Alice lets go of Teeny's leash and runs toward Charlie, but of course Teeny gets there first, causing Charlie to run farther away and cower behind a tree. Before both dogs run to the next town, Alice grabs Teeny's leash. She attempts to get Charlie to return to her using her most forceful tone of voice, and somehow he falls for it. Now she's managed to slip his collar back on him! Bet you didn't think that was going to happen! Meanwhile Teeny lunges and yaps and Charlie shrieks in horror. Someone's growling. Her? The dogs? Hard to say. She holds both dogs as far away as possible from each other. Now what?

There are at least two more minutes of Teeny lunging for Charlie and Charlie running in circles and Alice getting caught up in both leashes. There must be a smart way to solve this problem , Alice keeps thinking, I should be able to triumph over a dog who is the size of my fist. Is there anywhere to tie up Charlie for the time being? There is not. So she gets both dogs onto the porch of the house from where Teeny may or may not have come, and rings the doorbell. A larger dog barks and scrabbles at the front door. Charlie looks at Alice, as if to say, Are you inviting that dog out, too, because if you are I don't think I can live much longer.

She rings the doorbell. And rings again. Teeny tries to go for Charlie's neck one more time, and he lets out this mournful howl, as if he's calling out I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT. So Alice ties Teeny to a bench on the front porch of the house, and Alice and Charlie make their way back home. And either the owner of that house will arrive home and think, excellent, I see my evil tiny dog got out to wreak havoc yet again, or else, who left that curiously noisy koosh ball tied to my porch?

I feel so violated.

Dear cat:

I'm sorry we forgot to get you spayed. The good news is it's happening tomorrow. Meanwhile, don't look at me like that. I like you, but not in that way.

Fondly,

Your owner (but not lover)

Dear sexy, sexy human:

You are one hot number, did you know that? You don't have sleek fur covering your weird body, and you can't even cleanse your hindquarters with your probably un-barbed tongue, but… I don't know. There's something about you. I never noticed before today. But now I have these feelings, and I can't ignore them.

I will waggle my hindquarters in the air, and let nature take its course.

Patiently, your cat,

Izzy

Dear Izzy,

Shall I lock you in the basement overnight?

Love,

Alice

Dear Charlie,

Aw, yeah. I don't care how much of a non-cat you are, you are working this dog thing, and me likes. Do you know what you're doing to me, with that tail, and those eyes, and the way you stand there, paralyzed in terror, whenever I come around? Don't be afraid, baby. I got needs, and you're the closest thing to perfect within these four walls. You know where to find me.

Rowr,

Izzy

Cat-Thing--

Hey! What! I don't undersand when you talk about this and with the cat-butt in the air and what! It, you know, it's scary enough when you swat and hiss and poke and hiss and swat! Hey! But now I have to say I can't really handle this! Wow! I sure am very very very nervous! Where are my beloveds! My giant pink beloveds! Save me from cat-beast! SAVE!

Running,

Charlie

Hey baby,

You're the only one left, and time is running out. Tomorrow they take out my feelings, my hot cat needs, but tonight, tonight is for you and me. The dog, that coward, is hiding with the other non-cats, and I can't get at him. But you, you don't run away. You stand tall and strong, and I like that. Now MOUNT ME.

Thank you,

Your kitty cat.

ANIMAL:

No understand, me. Is confuse! Why you writhe and shimmy against I? What have you reason for chirruping? Cannot act. Cannot help! Want to, would like, but no working I is parts for moving. Am non-moving, but not non-feeling. So sorry.

Love,

COFFEE TABLE

Dear Alice,

Where are you going with this? Yes, we get it, the cat's in heat, you're getting her spayed. Better late then never, although some of us think spaying is evil and your cat should mate with wolves or whatever. We can't help it, some of us are kooks. Do you have any plans to wrap this up?

Love,

The Internet

Dear Internet,

No, I don't have any ideas, I'm sorry. I didn't think this through.

Yours,

Alice

Hey, Internet,

As long as you're here, HELP A CAT OUT GODDAMMIT.

Hugs 'n' stuff,

Izzy.

But what can he truly enjoy, if not the haunting notes of the fado?

A few years ago, my parents watched our dog, Charlie, while we were away. When we returned, my mother said, “We took him to work with us. He was so funny. He liked to run from window to window, like a little Italian.”

“Like a little Italian?” I said.

“You know," she said, "like a little Italian who wants to see what’s outside."

What I love about this is not only the nonsensical stereotype that my mother (who is Italian, by the way) chose to invent. It’s also the detail--who wants to see what’s outside--added for clarity. I suppose there are other reasons a little Italian might run from window to window. Perhaps to see if Giuseppe has arrived yet, his donkey cart piled high with bushels of fresh manicotti.

Since then, I’ve enjoyed inventing my own baffling non-stereotypes. I’ve been as happy, you might say, as a Portuguese deaf-mute. You know. A Portuguese deaf-mute, who enjoys things.