The frenzy over The New Yorker cover depicting Barack Obama as a Muslim got me thinking about discrimination. Not black v. white, or Christian v. Muslim, rather human v. dog.

The New Yorker cover was good satire. It’s also satirical when I do the “terrorist fist jab” (as coined by Fox News) with my dog friends. Am I a terrorist because I’m being ironic and bark “Allah u akbar” as I fist bump? No. But some dense, middle-aged white woman at the dog park might think I am. Especially if a Fox News anchor discerns that I have terrorist tendencies because of my species. That’s species profiling.

Watching me fist bump, moreover, one gets the impression that I might be gay. I’m a little limp-wristed. When I try to jump up on a human, for instance, my gangly legs bend at the wrist and I look kind of like a praying mantis. I’ve heard - from human and dog alike - some pretty rich language to describe my sexuality. Please. I had my testes cut off when I was five months old. I pee like a girl. I’m asexual, really. I reserve my humping for one dog and one dog only, my friend Tucker. But it has nothing to do with sex. Humans need to stop making false assumptions about dog sexuality based on whom we hump. When they giggle and call us names at the dog park, all I can think is that hate language is discrimination.

Then there’s the Breed Specific Legislation issue that is purely discriminatory. Drinking fountains for whites-only, anybody? Last week I tried to go to a concert in St. Paul with my pit bull friend, Chiquita. We wanted to see our cat-friend’s owner’s rock band, His Mischief. I’m a fluffy golden doodle, and I’m more ferocious than my lazy pit bull compatriot. But we weren’t allowed in. Chiquita’s breed, like Obama’s supposed creed, mattered more than the content of her character.

Stop the Doggie discrimination is all I’m sayin’.

The Dog Vote