Her Name was Lola...

...and let me tell you, she was definitely not a showgirl.

She is a dog, in fact. I met Lola this weekend at my friend's house. Lola is one of their two humungous dogs—I forget what breed she is, but she's 150 pounds and she's only 3 1/2. And she slobbers. And she's just the cutest. But she’s not petite: at one point she stepped on my foot and I think I heard a bone crack.

Granted, I have a weakness for dogs. I feel about dogs the way some women feel about children: I see a particularly cute one, and I'm so in love my uterus tingles. Then again, this is kind of strange, because it's not like I could give birth to a puppy. But such are the stirrings of motherhood.

Anyway, Lola is not only a giant but she's apparently very smart. She can twist off lids. I mean, I can't always twist off lids. She’s mischievous, too. And we all know that brains and a hot, slobbering bod are a lethal combination.

Her owner told me about how Lola got into an entire bottle of doggie aspirin. Then Lola, and their other dog, Fazal—named for their Swiss exchange student—proceeded to collectively eat 100 pills.

Lola's parents came home and found the empty bottle. Good thing Lola didn’t recycle or they would never have found the evidence. So they loaded their gigantic dogs into the car and went to the veterinarian.

Instead of pumping the dogs' stomachs, the vet gave them something that would make them throw up. Then, in a cruel twist of fate, the doctors gave the owners two pairs of gloves. Their job? To count all the pills the dogs had thrown up. Now, that's love. I mean, would you go through someone’s throw-up?

The dogs ended up staying in the hospital for two days, where the owners were updated on the hour as to how they were doing. And to think, new mothers are sent home the day after the give birth!

But really, I think dogs are treated better then people most of the time. I saw one dog wearing a Coach poncho that I’m sure was more expensive then my entire wardrobe.

It’s hard being a dog though, especially if your owner has a saucy job. I heard a tale about a bulldog puppy that swallowed one of his owner’s pasties (she was a stripper) and had to go to the hospital. Hope the stripper found this out before she got to work. I mean, there’s nothing more embarrassing then getting onstage without a matching pair of nipple covers.

So from now on, when I have medical problems or just want a little TLC, I think I'm going to the vet. And if I have to eat someone’s pasty to get there, so be it.