When a Dog Enters the Scene
My brother and his fiance stayed with Us on Friday night on their way south after a relaxing Christmas, complete with two hospitals and a bit of emergency surgery because who knew fallopian tubes could twist? Seriously? And at Christmas no less? Little bastards. But the tubes are happy again and they stopped to see Us before going home. And yes, this is the same brother who got engaged before Me. The same one who will likely marry before Me. The one who drove home My middle-child status by leaving Me as the only unengaged/unmarried one of the three of us. So naturally he brings not only said fiance, but also one of the most lovable, adorable, friendly little dogs in the world. A cute beagle mix with a great personality and a natural love for Him.
Showoff.
And of course that Him is the same Him who’s been asking for a dog periodically for the last three years. And by periodically I mean almost daily. He’s been so desperate that He actually asked for a battery powered dog for Christmas. I know how sad that is. I know that He needs a dog and that the companionship would be great and that We’d look at each other while watching Him chase the dog in slow motion in the back yard and We’d feel this deep sense of having made the right decision, but no. We don’t do dog. Neither one of Us wants to take the plunge.
Hair. Responsibility. Poop. We’ve been through that already with Him. Why would We want to go through all of it again with something that will never speak gratitude and may eventually wipe its ass on the carpet? Yeah, that’s not as poetic as the slow-motion running in the backyard.
We COULD do it again. COULD. But really We just don’t want to risk getting a dud. A dog that barks hysterically when someone comes over. Or one that pees everywhere. Or sheds like crazy. Or some other flaw that wouldn’t come out until We’d had it six months and had no choice but to keep it. So We’re planning to steal one. Perhaps. Or several of them. We don’t really have it all planned out yet. I’m thinking We just steal all the dogs We like from all the people We know and then We can pick the one We like best. Each dog that is rejected will be expected to find its way home. The bachelor without the limo and the awkward hot-tub meetings.
That, or We need to find a pet trial program somewhere. Or CarFax for dogs. Or a return policy. Something. I don’t take chances with things that can ruin the carpet. Or My mornings with a cup of coffee. Or a vacation. Or My black clothing. I’m not a risk taker (though this year may change that). Especially not when that risk would bring ruining and that ruining would come with a cost. We’d be paying to have Our lives taken over and I’m pretty sure I could find a better use for that money. Or a better way to lose control of My life without spending as much.
But there is that whole chasing My brother’s dog in the backyard, bit. And the laughing and the fun and the bonding and the guilt. And then We look at the photos I took and We both think that maybe a dog wouldn’t be bad. Then We drink and the dog slips out of the picture. I just don’t think We can’t drink forever. But if the choice is grab warm poop through a plastic bag or pour wine over My Cheerios at 6AM, I’ll take option two.
One Comment
As a dog owner and lover, I must admit you have it right. it’s very much like having kids. From the outside it doesn’t look worth it and from the inside you wouldn’t trade it. But a certain amount of ready-and -willingness is required. Save your money.
Sue Campbell
1/11/2012