Sunday, February 1, 2009
what to expect when you're not expecting
those in some other galaxy of "know" preach that having a dog is good practice for eventual human procreation. if that is the case, my children can expect to hear repeated variations of: "you little shit, we just went through the whole toileting routine, and now you leave a little pile of stinky brown soft serve on the persian rug??? that's it, you're going in your cage!"
rationalizations, from the non-breeders, include; "it's less work than a human"-- except that you can strap infants in nappies and not have to worry about them leaving an easter bunny turd trail in their wake; "the other dog needs to maintain her social skills"-- incessant biting and obsessive bum sniffing?; "there are no 59 hours of alternating constipation-diarrhea contractions and torn taints"-- sold. and despite the shared narcolepsy of puppies and teengers, it is socially acceptable to have the former fixed at 6 months in order to avoid future 'babymomma drama'- perhaps the DMV could issue a "spay and neuter your teen" license plate.
any ambition of creating room by room pottery barn catalogue stills, have been eclipsed by a version of feng shui sponsored by petsmart. and as new "parents", we are 'born again' as hirsute sasquatches; the conversion is complete. should dementia set in before menopause, or alcohol impedes my ability to locate the fridge, a permanent hansel and gretel installation plots swift passage to the pinot grigio, by way of chewable pig ears/saliva marinated rope/equally saturated puppy paraphernalia.
encouraging your human children to fight like roseanne&tom or kim&alec, or launch from furniture to body slam a sibling, is generally considered unacceptable unless your family is an original cast member of jackass. and supernanny would not condone holding a laptop with camera and skype running, for family members in the UK and middle east to view the real time, domestic assault.
chewing on animate and inanimate articles is a shared commonality between anthropoid and canid. and based on my own surveillance, flip flops, leashes, faeces, bike pumps, swiffers, box cutters, and siblings should all be placed out of reach of the teething moppet.
fortunately my TESL certificate is coming in handy for loquacious conversational english with an emphasis on present tense verbs: "sit", "pee!", "poo", "out", and "stop". more complex sentence structures incorporate a proper noun; "no axel", used interchangeably with "no asshole! get down!"
as with all relationships, or at least my own collection of ambivalent trysts, the reunion makes all the the waiting, growling and dry humping worthwhile. sometimes i just sit in the driveway for half an hour so i can walk in the front door to be greeted with: "oh-my-god-you-really-came-back-i'm-so-relieved-when-are-you-going-to-feed-me?" leap and lick-fest.
like the new parent, i find the ear hair, hiccups, doggie bed desecration, sprawling sleep and frozen peesicles endearing and worthy of immediate photographic documentation.
and toilet training is never fun under any conditions, where poos have now become a corporeal rorschach of connect the dots in the snow.
i certainly did not expect to log so many hours staring in anticipation at the dog's bum for impending anal dilation, all so that i could be a cookie dispensing cheerleader.