Apparently Puppies Are No Longer the One Thing We Can All Agree On

I sure hope none of my readers did something so awful as gift your children perfectly adorable pets for Christmas

DISCLAIMER: This post is technically about Kim Kardashian. If you’re like me, your interest in K-Kar ranks somewhere between “airport carpet patterns” and “the history of drywall.” Stick with me anyway—she’s just the catalyst. This is really an essay about judgment culture, over-the-top hypocrisy, and the inescapable fact that happiness now comes with terms and conditions.

From an “accidentally leaked” sex tape and a 72-day marriage to shapewear debates and more than a few tone-deaf social media posts, Kim Kardashian is certainly no stranger to controversy. Just when you think the woman has run out of ways to steal the spotlight and inspire global hysteria, she goes and [*checks notes*] gives her kids puppies for Christmas.

Yes. Puppies. Not oil wells. Not private islands. Not matching limited-edition travel trunks made from the tears of underpaid artisans. Puppies. Small, fluffy, aggressively nonpolitical furballs whose most offensive crime appears to be existing without a rescue origin story.

Naturally, the internet melted like a candle on a Texas highway in July.

The highly inflammatory Instagram post.

Within minutes of Kim sharing a photo of the four pocket-sized Pomeranians—one for each child—social media erupted with the kind of feverishness usually reserved for war crimes tribunals. How dare she. How dare she spoil her own children without simultaneously solving the global homeless animal crisis, dismantling capitalism, and issuing a handwritten apology to the internet’s self-appointed ethics committee. The nerve!

@iwilllovejesus4ever00HOW🤔DARE😠WE👀SPEAK😕MERRY🎄CHRISTMAS🤬,HOW😍DARE👻WE??”MeRry ChRiStMaS eVeRyBo- GET OUT💯💯#kamalaharrismeme #kamala #2024elections #donaldtrump #fyp #blowup?

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PETA, never one to miss an opportunity to lecture from on high, leapt in with the urgency of a hall monitor who just spotted the class president puffing on a vape pen. “Puppies are not plushies,” their founder scolded, all but suggesting that Kim was moments away from tossing them into a claw machine. PETA’s spokesperson helpfully explained that the billionaire reality-TV matriarch could “make amends” for her egregious gifts by sending her kids to volunteer at a shelter, funding an adopt-a-thon, and possibly sponsoring a spay-and-neuter day. I am not even making that up.

Because nothing says “core childhood memory” like being guilt-tripped by activists as you’re opening your holiday presents.

The rules are clear now. If you’re rich, you may not enjoy anything unless it also fixes everything. A puppy is only acceptable if it comes with a grant proposal. Christmas is allowed, as long as it includes a service component and a press release. Love your kids, sure—but not like that. Not without first checking with the internet.

Can you imagine looking at life through this lens?

Let’s pause for a reality check. I am hardly a Kardashian fangirl—I’ve never watched her show, I couldn’t name one of her fragrances if you put a gun to my head, and I own exactly one SKIMS top (it was a gift, and I admit I love it)—but it’s not as if the shapewear mogul is famously uncharitable. This is a woman who has funded criminal justice reform, paid legal fees for inmates she’s never met, donated to disaster relief programs, and quietly written seven-figure checks to causes that don’t come with cute Instagram slides. But apparently none of that counts if it’s not allocated on demand. The collective, having appointed itself her personal philanthropy board, has decided that this—this exact moment, with these specific gifts—is where she should have directed her support. Anything else is irrelevant. Big deal, she gives back. But she gives back incorrectly.

I find it fascinating that people (I’m guessing, ones without money, morals, or both) believe that wealth works like an empathy off-switch—that once you reach a certain tax bracket, you can no longer care about a pet. You simply acquire it, post a few cute photos, and then immediately delegate all affection to “the hired help” so you can move on to the next shiny toy. “We know who’s going to be picking up after those dogs,” the peanut gallery tsk-tsks, as if she who scoops the poop is the only true lover of the mutt.

For the record, I am one-thousand percent positive I could outsource that job and not love my fur babies one iota less.

It’s equally amusing that buying a “designer dog” is now treated like a character felony—as if the only ethical way to own a pet is to pass a public purity test and swear allegiance to the shelter-industrial complex.

Here’s a little heads-up to the haters: If buying a puppy from a breeder is indefensible because shelters exist, then wanting a biological child should be equally suspect—because foster care and adoption exist. The reality is, people buy purebred dogs for boring, practical reasons that have nothing to do with flexing. Allergies. Predictable temperament. Size you can actually plan around. Energy levels that won’t destroy your house or your sanity. Families with kids, other pets, or limited space often want a dog whose traits are known rather than rolling the dice on an unknown mix.

Reputable breeders test for health issues, socialize their puppies, and take responsibility for the animals they produce—often with contracts requiring the dog be returned if things don’t work out. That isn’t cruelty or vanity; it’s planning. Wanting a companion that fits your life instead of turning your home into a long-term rehabilitation project is not necessarily a sign of moral bankruptcy.

To be clear, I’m a lifelong rescue-girl myself. I also can’t resist a good second-hand thrift store haul. But if you want to buy yourself a brand new Gucci bag or splurge on a hypoallergenic Schnoodle or Newfypoo (those are actual things, BTW), you do you, boo. You’re still giving an animal a home. Not every purchase, pursuit, or preference has to be an ideological statement. Sometimes a wiener dog is just a dog.

And of course, no one is ever satisfied. If Kim had adopted from a shelter, the backlash would simply have shifted lanes: Why not adopt two for each kid? You can afford it! What about the old dogs? The blind ones? The ones with terminal illnesses? Why not fund the entire shelter? Why not end breeding entirely? Why do you get to be so rich? Why can’t you just be miserable like the rest of us?

This is the vortex of online virtue signaling: the expectation that every personal decision by a public figure must double as proof of principles. Every spent penny is judged. Normal parenting is suspicious. And giving your kids puppies without first saving the world is an act of civic negligence.

Meanwhile, the loudest critics aren’t fostering. They aren’t volunteering. They aren’t cleaning kennels at 6 a.m. They are, however, extremely committed to yelling on X.

The most absurd part is that this wasn’t even a flex. Kim didn’t post a price tag. She didn’t announce a “Puppy Drop.” She shared a picture of cute, cuddly dogs, which—until about five minutes ago—was one of the few universally agreeable things left on the internet.

But now we’re living in an era where even puppies must carry moral weight. Where Christmas gifts require an ethics review. Where doing something nice for your children is grounds for public shaming if it doesn’t advance a sufficiently ambitious social agenda.

So congratulations to Kim Kardashian, who once again managed to break the internet—not by being outrageous, but by daring to enjoy a normal human moment without saving the world first.

I realize mine may not be the popular opinion here… so let me have it in the comments! Also, be nice. The whole point of this piece is maybe we should let everyone be their OWN judge and jury. ;)

If Santa forgot these, you can still pre-order and order them for yourself, respectively.