Ah, dogs.
They really do add to your quality of life. Ya know, if you don’t have too many. That said, I’m half afraid that my family and I might indeed end up featured on TLC for living under a layer of dog feces and fur before too long. My sister and I both have a dog – and now that we’ve gotten the itch for more – a new family member is arriving tomorrow evening:
Now, if you know me – I love dogs and I double-love dogs who are rescues. Bianca (that’s her name) is both. Now, I’m not judging – but I think this is quasi weird – that we’re obtaining this canine so speedily. And that’s because… well… we haven’t even met her yet. That’s right. My mom’s out buying an xXXxL dog bed for her (because: behemoth) before her 6 P.M. arrival tomorrow when she’ll step over the threshold of her new home for the first time, like some Russian mail order bride. And here we don’t even know whether she’s an asshole. Or speaks our language.
But I have a hunch on the rationale behind this rush job.
You see, my dad’s away on travel. And since his programmed inquiry for everything point everything new we acquire in life is: “How much does that cost?” (to the chagrin of my mother and sister – the founders of this adoption adventure), I assume this week seemed like the perfect opportunity to sneak it in like a frat boy into a drunken Freshman. Highschooler. (#toofar).
Anyway, so on the hound heels of this, my sister sends me a pic of a prospective pup for me to adopt.
And, I gotta admit, the li’l darling is a heartbreaker and a half.
(I don’t have the pic anymore, but she looks just like the “Good As It Gets” pet.)
I also acknowledge that the fluffy love of my life – my roommate, my partner in crime, the only creature who can read my mind enough to know when I’m leaving and promptly shit on the floor in protest – will die eventually. If we’re being honest, it’s probably gonna be soon. #FactsAreHard. In light of reality’s harshness, my mom’s said, “Wouldn’t it make it easier to get over her if you had another dog?” And while that seems like a fantastic rhetorical question, I dunno that it would. In fact, I don’t think it would. I mean, if I died, would the fact that you have my sister (and her new dog) mitigate it? Wait-…yes? Yes it wou-… life would be better? And you’d wha-… You’d throw a party?!
So much for rhetorical questions. But the point, I suppose, is that it boils down to quality of life. There’s the quality of my current dog’s life (who I wanna give all my attention to for now). And then, of course, there’s the quality of my life too. Which, when I think the thought through and imagine my resident shitbag-who-I-love teaching some impressionable newcomer all her tricks, makes me both want her and not want her. ‘cause on the one hand, she’s adorable and my internal hoarder always wants more. But on the other hand? The logical one? The rational side who rarely speaks?
That’s really just two defiant bowels and bladders I have to clean up after.
Which, when you think about it, is kinda detrimental to my quality of life.
(Jump cut to next entry featuring Minnie’s unnecessary new sister.)