Central Park, NY—Given the projections for compensation in the finance industry this year, David Goldstein, a 29 year old Wall Street trader, is starting to realize that naming his pet dog “Bonus,” might not have been prudent. “Bonus was a 225 lb. great dane, and when I got him two years ago, calling him Bonus just seemed so appropriate,” explained Mr. Goldstein, seated on a bench in Central Park. “He was fucking huge.”

“I’d walk him around here on his Hermes collar and leash, and girls would bite their lips and then just take off all their clothes when I told them what his name was,” he recounted nostalgically. But now Bonus sulked at his feet in a PetSmart collar, skeletal, still refusing to eat anything besides Del Frisco’s steaks.

“Look at this skinny little bitch,” said Mr. Goldstein, kicking Bonus in the side and forcing out a pathetic whimper. Women still walked by, but their clothes remained on. And they didn’t respond to Bonus with awe; rather, they offered concern and said: “Aww, he’s so tiny!”