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Let’s start off by agreeing that dogs are the best kind of pet. Cats put guys into weird heavy wool sweater stereotypes, birds are a loud hassle, and reptiles immediately let every girl who lives near you know that you own a high power telescope but can’t name a single constellation. Adopting a dog is like adopting a better version of your college roommate. He’s gonna mooch off you and nap all day, and have a weird nickname, but your dog will come with a certain set of skills to help you survive bachelor life.
Ladies Love Cool Jack Russel Terriers
This is the obvious one. A single guy needs a wing-pup. Timing your walk past an ending yoga class with your new best friend will guarantee that you can be the most awkward person in history and still leave with a number. Set up puppy playdates, go into a little of Fido’s tragic history before you adopted him, and set yourself up as the guy who can both provide for another living creature, and be compassionate. You’ll be forgiven for any number of accidental jerk moves because, “Well, he has a dog he cares for, he can’t be THAT big of an asshole.”
Fido is your new personal trainer
The biggest problem facing single postgrad guys (outside of crippling college debt and an inadequate job market, I guess) is that extra few pounds we pack on from drunk food and beer as our metabolism slows to a crawl. I used to pay 30 bucks a week for a personal trainer to tell me to do crunches and lift. Now I go running every day with Scotch for free. We catch some weedles and crush a step competition or two on Fitbit (and sometimes she wears my Fitibit for me. She gets a lot more steps at work than I do). Having trouble getting out of bed in the morning? Your dog is gonna be there with eyes you won’t be able to ignore, forcing your sorry, unshaven, three-shots-too-many self outta bed to start the day. Get the right breed, and that drill instructor bark-and-run will jump you into 5k shape in no time. Depending on where you live, 5k is more than enough to run past two yoga studios and a coffee shop to hunt for available women.
You can blame anything, ANYTHING, on Fido
You’re about to close the deal with “Kelli with an i” from yoga, promising to take her back to your place to see that cute dog of yours again. As you walk in the door, you remember you’re a slob, and your apartment is a wreck from pregaming some Olympic qualifiers with the guys the week before. Guess who’s happy to take the blame in exchange for a few extra treats? That lovable scamp must have pulled those pillows off the couch! And oh, no, they got into the pantry again! You swear profusely that you have just the hardest time keeping that pup in check, but he’s had such a rough life before you got him, you’re too much of a sucker to do anything about it. Oh, and did he just fart really bad? Who’s a good dog? YOU’RE a good dog..