As many of my followers know, I’m on the hunt for a house. I couldn’t have chosen the absolute worst time to do that, too. It’s a seller’s market in my area, and home prices are climbing to new heights. Homes that would have been right up my monetary alley are not even within reach.
Probably you’re wondering, “Then, why are you choosing to buy right now, dumbass?”
Well, it’s simple. I’m sick and tired of paying someone else’s mortgage. I’m sick of having to share the communal laundry area in the basement that reeks of weed and stroganoff. I’m sick of forgetting to get quarters to do said laundry. I’m sick of not having a garden I can swear I’m going to use for planting an herb garden, but I’ll likely neglect. I’m sick of not having private outdoor space that I never use, but it’s there if I ever do decide to enjoy some fresh Reno cigarette air. Most of all, I’m sick of not having a dog.
I’ve had more people than is even reasonable who respond to that desire in a way that would insinuate that I’m not “ready” for that responsibility. Maybe they are just putting a really rude spin on the classic, “There, there. It’ll happen in time.” Either way, it pisses me the hell off.
First, I’m 34-fucking-years-old. Sure, I can’t keep a house plant alive to save my life, but an animal is completely different.
Second, I could have gotten a dog like other irresponsible college kids do when I was young, living in a cramped apartment, and I sometimes couldn’t even afford to feed myself, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I knew that kind of lifestyle and my idiocy was not fair to any animal.
Third, who are you, the Everything You Could Possibly Know About Dogs expert? Who says you’re the best dog mom/dad ever? I know you feed your dog expired hot dogs and clearance tinned cat food in secret. That organic dog food you made and posted on Instagram happened once. Three years ago. Sit down.
Lastly, needing/wanting a dog in your life is almost as legit as the need to have a child. It’s all about the biological need for a woman to nurture something.
Maybe it seems silly to you, but I was born with puppy ovaries. I yearn for a furry, milk-breathed baby. I need something to love and care for. Since I’m not planning on having human children, my desire for a puppy feels legit to me.
Don’t belittle that desire, because it seems silly to you.
Might I remind you again that I’m well into my adult years, I am responsible for 20 human lives on a daily basis, and I’m pretty damn dependable.
Quit acting like I don’t know what kind of huge responsibility it is to have a dog.
Just stop.
So, the search continues for a non-crack den house that’s crack-den-cheap so I can have a dog. Keep your eyes peeled for my next WTF Wednesday, which will likely be on the myriad options I have for housing (hint: I’m being sarcastic, and most of my options come on wheels).
Tell me: Has anyone made you feel like you were too inept for a dog, or even a houseplant? Let me know in the comments.
Tag: dogs
Dog Days
I have been house and dog sitting for my aunt and uncle for a week. One long week. It’s necessary to point out that I’m childless, by choice and dog-less, due to circumstance. If I lived in an apartment that allowed dogs, I would have become a dog mama a long time ago. Forget “baby fever”, I have “puppy fever” something fierce. The second I see floppy ears, awkward paws, and big puppy eyes, I melt. I become that annoying, squealing girl, the kind of girl who says, “OMG, it’s a POOPY! WANT!”
So, I used to have puppy fever. I think I’m good for at least another 5 years before I will think I want a dog again. Maybe that’s being dramatic, but in my exhaustion, I have lost all desire to wake up to puppy breath. For those of you thinking of getting a puppy, let me tell you, puppy parenting is some serious, life-altering shit.
The dogs I am watching are actually total sweethearts. The younger one, Pepper, loves to cuddle. The old guy, Marley, loves to be by you at all times. With being alone in a big house, these traits are much appreciated. They also, for the most part, come when they’re called (unless they are in the middle of eating a turd, you can’t just leave a perfectly good poop uneaten like that), and they don’t bark at all.
This is where the easiness comes full halt. I am reminded why I don’t want children: I adore my sleep. Guess what? Dogs are like babies, in that they don’t give two shits if you get sleep or not. I’ve probably slept a total of 5 solid hours this entire week.
The first night, both dogs must have felt unsettled, as all I heard all night was toenails clicking on the hardwood floor and collars going “jingle-jingle”. They apparently didn’t need their sleep, like I needed mine. The next night, I got smarter, and moved to a room with carpet and I took their collars off. This was the only night I got any real sleep.
Marley has never really seemed thrilled his mom and dad have been gone. To self-soothe, he has been obsessively licking his butthole. He won’t stop and it’s red and irritated. Instead of calling and freaking out his parents, I asked my mom what to do. She said to make sure he poops and “just tell him to quit licking”. I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time yelling at a dog who is going down on his asshole.
3rd Night: Pepper decided the human bed was a better place to be than the dog bed. She slipped under the covers and literally slept with her nose between my buttcheeks all night. I was so scared she would suffocate, so all night long, I checked to see if she was still breathing.
4th Night: Both dogs woke me up no less than 3 times to go outside. Their potty breaks must not have been enough, as Marley unleashed farts all night that made me cry. Sleep was filled with nightmares and night sweats.
5th Night: The temperature dropped drastically and I was able to sleep with the window open. I woke up with a start to Marley having a nightmare. After I spent 10 minutes reassuring him and petting his belly, I worried that he was too cold. I found a blanket and covered him. I checked on him throughout the night, as I didn’t want him to freeze to death. Pepper was warm, as she still felt the need to sleep directly on top of me.
6th Night. I smelled poop. Pure poop. I guess that happens when a dog’s asshole is directly in your face. I still feel dirty.
7th Night: At 3:00 AM, I hear barfing. I hope it’s a nightmare, but it’s not. Marley is barfing in the corner. I can’t even, so I just go back to sleep. At 7:00 AM, I check to see if maybe, hopefully it was a nightmare. Nope, there’s puke in the corner. I resolve to be fully awake before I have to clean up dog vomit, so I go back to sleep again. 8:00 AM comes around and I let the dogs out, and, the puke is gone. HE ATE HIS OWN BARF. While I’m eternally grateful that he cleaned up his own mess, I’ve been dry heaving all day at the thought that he ate his own barf.
While it’s been nice to hang with some legit pups and drink free beer every night, I have bags under my eyes and I have 80 new gray hairs. I’m exhausted, and I can’t wait to get back to my bed. A bed that doesn’t smell of dog asshole and farts (well, at least dog farts).
Pepper and Marley are sweethearts, but just like with babies, I prefer to squeeze their cheeks, ogle over them, and then hand them back.
Pepper says, “Blogging is boring. Pay attention to me!”
“You weren’t in the room, and we thought you would never come back, so we helped ourselves”.
“If my eyes are closed, I can’t see you, so you can’t see me on the bed I’m not supposed to be on”.
Marley is over your shit, Pepper.
“We are handfuls, but we sure are cute little shits”.
