Poodles in Paris

Necessities of life I deem "modern" in nature I avoid with every fiber of my being. One of these is getting new eye glasses. The thought of trying on Nine West or Vera Wang on my Golden Girl face leave me feeling anxious from head to toe.

Glasses chewed beyond use by the Big White Puppy left me no other option but to make the dreaded optical appointment with Dr. Needlecore. Ushered into his office my file in hand, he asked me to don my current pair of glasses. "Oh doctor, they are not wearable at all. I can't see through the teeth marks." "It says right here," Dr. Needlecore ignoring my embarrassed countenance, "Reason for glasses SEVEN years ago, DOG ATE GLASSES!" My immediate thought was of being labeled a pet owner who can't train their dog to behave.

As the simple mathematics behind optical bifocals were explained to me while at the same time being asked to determine which was clearer, "Seven or eight, nine or ten, ten or seven" the ever present veil of OCD descended. I couldn't speak for the numbers spiraling through my conscience. Could I be any more mortified.

Dr. Needlecore was not to be deterred from his enthusiastic sales pitch. "Don't you want to be able to see "Up Here" and "Down Here", "Over Here" and "Over There". Don't you want to be able to see clearly?" My immediate thought was to wonder if Sophia Loren still made eye wear.

"NO! Dr. Needlecore." I blurted out. "I prefer my world to be a little fuzzy. It keeps me from counting lint on the carpet!" A quiet came over Dr. Needlecore as he took a seat nearby and picked off Big White Puppy fur from my sleeve. "I absolutely understand. I'm the same way myself."

When my husband travels to Paris, he says nearly every person can be seen with a well behaved dog by their side. This coming from a man with perfect vision.