Animal House

We've been caring for my in-law's Golden Retriever, Rex, for the past few days, and this is where I've been finding him in the mornings when I wake up...IN MY SPOT ON THE BROWN COMFY CHAIR, SHEDDING HIS FUR ALL OVER THE PLACE. Let's just forget for a moment that he's not even supposed to be on the furniture in the first place (give 'em an inch...). There are several other family room options for him to be able to defile our furniture. There's plenty of space on the couch on the other side of the room, or he could sleep on the other side of the chair, on Diane's side, who would be perfectly happy to share her side of the brown comfy chair with him. But he didn't. He chose MY SPOT because he knows that I'm the ONLY ONE in this family who gives a rat's ass about him being on the furniture. And he also knows there's not a damn thing I can do about it (look at that smug look on his face) because this is a battle that I have utterly and totally lost.

Don't get me wrong, I like animals. I love going to the zoo or petting other people's animals that get to go back home to their house when I've had my fill of patting their soft, fuzzy heads. We used to be pet owners, cat people, but our beloved kitties had this nasty little habit of pissing everywhere but their litter box. We should have owned stock in Nature's Miracle, which we bought by the barrel, hooked up to a nozzle, and hosed down what seemed like our entire house on a daily basis. Nature's Miracle was just sort of miraculous, though, as it never truly rid our home of the pleasant scent of cat piss.

When it came time to sell our home, we decided that the piss-soaked carpeting needed to be replaced. It was only after we pulled up the old carpeting that we saw the extent of the damage. Then it was bye-bye kitties. We weren't going to spend a butt-load of money on new carpeting only for our cats to soil it with their butt-loads. My in-laws were gracious enough to give the cats a chance at their house, and they were good, using their litter box, for several weeks. But when they returned to their old ways, it was off to the Humane Society where they were soon adopted by a woman who owned something like ten other cats, and obviously didn't mind the smell of cat piss.

After the kitties were gone I was amazed at how clean the place stayed, "clean" being a relative term in our house. There was no litter to clean up, no Nature's Miracle to purchase and dump liberally in every nook and corner, and, best of all, no cat hair! We went from having 400 of those tape-roller-thingies stashed around the house to none. It was awesome!

But, alas, all good things must end. The pressure of pet ownership has let up considerably since my in-laws acquired Rex. The girls are able to go over there, get their Sexy-Rexy fix, and come home. But they'd really like to have a pet of their own. The only reason we haven't become pet owners again is because Diane hasn't deemed the time as right. I'd like to believe that it's because I'm the one in control and that I've said that it'll be a cold day in hell before we ever own a pet again, but I know it isn't true. I've got a dog snoring on my side of the comfy brown chair to prove it. My beautiful wife allows me to function under the false pretense of control because she knows it makes me feel like "the man". And we both know that it's just a matter of time before we delight the girls with a pet of their own, over my deadened body. And I'll deal with the piss and the poop and the hair because their dispenser will be something that brings them happiness.

Right now the only thing that's bringing me happiness is the vacuum cleaner. It picks up hair and scares Sexy-Rex half out of his mind. Time to go wake up a dog.