For over 14 years Wenda Coburn begged me to let her get a dog. I eventually relented (a.k.a. put my selfishness aside) and said “OK.”
…that was over 14 years ago.
As it turns out, that wasn’t such a bad thing. I got to do silly stuff like this (because she did it first).
And I always run around with my tongue sticking out and making stupid faces. Because if she can do it, I can…
However…
It was not easy at first, I mean, what do you do when this….
…goes into the laundry room and pulls out only your underwear from a basket of clean clothes and rips them to shreds? It couldn’t be because I made her mad, could it?
Eventually I found a fun way to torture Princess Chloe under the disguise of playing with her. Can you say flash light and laser pointer? <insert evil-grin here>
After some years…
We found a way to cohabit and we both survived. I even found myself letting her do those things that only humans should be allowed to do…
And so…
As I look over the past 14 years I observe the following:
Year 1
The selfish and reluctant OK: “You can get a dog, but I’m not taking care of any of it’s crap!”
Mid-way
I play with her; sit on the couch with her; and pick up, in the yard…her crap.
Year 14 (past few months)
I wipe her drool; help her down the stairs to the outside; and hold her up while she…takes a crap.
Conclusion
I never was too fond of dogs — didn’t hate them, but didn’t like them either. More like an aloof indifference toward the four-legged, barky slobbery things. I still refuse to be called a dog lover. Although, one might observe me as being much more than indifferent now.
So, in the end, to be honest, I guess I really do…give a crap.
R. I. P. Princess Chloe
My parting words to you — Princess Chloe — are not my own; but those of the immortal Jim Morrison:
This is the end, beautiful friend This is the end, my only friend, the end Of our elaborate plans, the end … I’ll never look into your eyes…again –Brett
