Barking Up a Very, Very Wrong Tree in Self: Glossed Over

Reading Self doesn’t normally induce squirming (save for when it delves into the gruesome particulars of injuries and infections), but we are at a near-total loss to convey the abject horror we felt upon reading a particular tidbit about Katherine McPhee in the April issue. It comes under a reasonably apropos heading:

Eleven things you probably don’t know about her

Though we would suggest this particular factoid belongs more appropriately in the category of things you absolutely, positively do not want to know about her, or anyone else, ever, on pain of death. Brace yourself. The terrible secret revealed?

She French-kisses her dog.

Let that image sink in for a minute. It’s utterly foul, sure, but don’t run away screaming just yet—there are details!

Seriously. McPhee opens her mouth and allows Nena, her 10-month-old Chihuahua, to lick inside. “We kiss. We’re tongue lovers,” McPhee says, laughing. “It grosses my dad out.” To Nena in a baby voice, McPhee says, “I wuv you, baby. People will think I’m weird, but I don’t care because I wuv you.”

Ugh. We just turned green, and not with envy. Maybe she doesn’t care, but we sure do. (And, we would like to add, we love dogs—just not nearly as, uh, enthusiastically or literally as the American Idol runner-up.)

Perhaps the only thing more “weird” than making out with your dog is doing so in front of a reporter. We hope this is merely an ill-conceived publicity stunt, an outlandish ploy to drum up her CD sales. And if it isn’t? Well, then we’re relieved Self didn’t publish any photos of Katherine’s canine encounter. Also, we feel sorry for her boyfriend.

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