Dogarrruffic
Amy wants a dog. I mean she really wants a dog. No, you totally don’t understand the depth of dog longing she endures every day. It is (apparently) a bottomless void in her soul, a never-ending yearning, an unquenchable thirst. If she were ever to be so lucky as to procure a dog, I can imagine her reaching tenderly toward its furry muzzle in a Jerry Maguire sort of way and declaring, “You…complete me.” She’s fighting an uphill battle though. I do not like house pets, especially dogs.* They’re smelly and dirty and messy and noisy. I am not interested in walking, bathing, playing with, or being slobbered on by a dog and I know all of these things would happen regardless of Amy’s solemn vows that she would do everything and I would never even know the dog existed. Right. She is not discouraged though. For Christmas she asked Santa for a golden retriever (request denied) and she regularly slips a dog request into our everyday conversations. For example: Mia: I want a drink of milk. Me: What’s the magic word? Mia: Please. (Milk acquired.) Why is it called a magic word? Me: Because when you use it, people are more willing to give you what you want. Amy (hollers from the other room): Can I have a dog, PLEASE? An indoor pet is out of the question but I am not totally against the idea of an outdoor pet. In a moment of weakness, I admitted that if we end up losing the lawsuit and if we have sell our house and move, we’re hoping to get more acreage at the new place and then she could maybe, possibly have an outdoor dog.** Our current house sits on a quarter acre, which is pretty big, but I want at least an acre before I’ll agree to a dog. The dog needs its own place, see? I don’t want it playing in my garden or chewing on my deck chairs. She has latched onto this idea with fervor and asks every day when we’re moving. For now she has had to content herself with collecting dog-related paraphernalia. There are dog stuffed animals, interactive dog toys, dog video games, dog posters, dog books, dog photos, and the list goes on. It’s entirely possible that one of these days she might actually slip a real dog into the house and I won’t even notice because there is so much other dog stuff around here. * A big part of my aversion to dogs could be the fact that there are two giant creatures living across the back fence from us who insist on barking their fool heads off day in and day out…for almost four years now. Nothing we’ve done has made any difference and the owners regard us as evil dog-haters. I mean, why else would we not enjoy the racket issuing nonstop from the gullets of their precious little angels at two o’clock in the morning? ** Okay, I may have recklessly promised this in an effort to make the idea of moving seem less painful. It could have been a strategic error I’ll come later to regret, we’ll see.
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