Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Dogs.

As I write this in the wee hours of the morning I would love to say that not a creature was stirring. Oh. If that were true. There is one creature who is shaking the house with a thunder that surely must register at least a 3 on the Richter scale. It's my dog. Scratching his *)&!@. When he does this he makes a sound that causes one to throw up slightly in their own mouth. 
Then there's the dog that is more like a cat. He's our friends' dog and we watch him on occasion. I love this dog dearly. In fact, he essentially ushered me into the possibility of having a dog around all the time. What I didn't realize was that he's not quite a dog. Sure he has ears like one. He barks, annoyingly, like one. But he prances. My husband informs me that dogs are not supposed to prance. I believe him. Meanwhile. The other dog. I hope to God those sounds I'm hearing are just farts. But the smell. It just shouldn't be. No living thing could possibly... 
I guess now that we finally have a house I will need to get used to dogs. Fru-fru dogs that are easy but bark incessantly to big butch dogs that are a "man's dog." Excuse me while I go lament the peaceful days of just cats and quietly let go of my secret dream to become the ultimate cat-lady.

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