Bandit Heeler Is Kind Of A DILF

There. I said it. I know. It’s wrong on so many levels. We’re both married with children. We live worlds apart and halfway across the globe from each other. Oh yeah, Bandit Heeler is also a cartoon dog. Kind of a dealbreaker. It could probably never work, but is it so wrong to dream of an idyllic life of domestic bliss with an anthropomorphic animation?

I guess I have a history of occasional yearnings for soulful and witty drawn fictional characters. In the ‘90s, I fell hard for Michaelangelo’s pizza-eating, sewer-skater, turtle teen vibes, and Captain Planet’s heart-powered environmentalism had me separating my plastics long before I understood the appeal of his rippled thighs in those tight red briefs. (There was also some level of fascination with Garfield — in hindsight, I think it was more about the lasagna.)

But now, just when I thought I had put childish cartoon fetishes aside, in trots Bandit Healer with a laid-back, playful attitude that rivals a ‘90s mutant turtle and the emotional intelligence of an elemental spirit warrior. It’s enough to bring back those old feelings of puppy love. One minute I was watching a Bluey episode about friendship with my kindergartener, and the next I was fantasizing about creating a blended family of canines and humans lovingly gazing at each other from a series of squares, like a bunch of Furries cosplaying with the Brady Bunch.

Before you start thinking I’m some kind of wacko, I’d like to assure you that I’ve never had an impure thought about any actual animals, Daddy Tiger, or any of Mr. Rogers’ affiliates. The mere mention of Daddy Pig with his scraggly, pre-pubescent pig whiskers makes me want to dry heave, and Arthur’s Dad is an aardvark, which is a bridge too far — even for me. But Bandit Healer is a rare gem among cartoon father figures; his charm transcends species, his charisma subverts logic, and his animal magnetism is irresistible to a tired mom who just wants to zone out with a cup of coffee while her children are provided wholesome entertainment by someone, anyone, other than me.

Sure, Bandit has great hair, a perfect snout, and flaunts his naked body in virtually every episode, but it’s his ability to herd a litter with compassion, empathy and just the right amount of goofy optimism that earns him a spot on my top five completely fictional and definitely not real list of “Cartoons I Wouldn’t Mind Taking for a Wild Romp.”

Aside from his top-tier personality, there’s plenty of evidence confirming Bandit’s role-playing skills are unmatched, and I can only assume this dog-man superhunk’s eagerness to please his family would extend into all areas of his life. That alone is so hot that I can forget he has four legs and a tail.

The accent doesn’t hurt either.

Bandit has a contagious, nonabrasive positivity that only a dog can manage without being annoying, and his emotional depth makes “Golden Retriever Husbands” look second best to Blue Heelers. Have you seen Season 3, Episode 11 (Sheepdog) when Bandit runs interference, entertaining Bluey by pretending to be her wayward sheep so Chilli can get just 20 fucking minutes to herself? That’s love. That’s dedication. That’s Bandit.

Episode after episode, Bandit Heeler raises the bar for man and dog alike with his unwavering affection, frisky spirit, and sweet nature. And I can only assume his lack of clothing means our fictional coupling would free me from the tedium of putting a human companion’s dirty socks into the laundry bin and likely lead to a few more spontaneous rolls on the hay. Even if this unholy union between Bandit and me doesn’t work out, I’ll never forget our time together and the parenting lessons he taught me along the way.