When I was a toddler my mother would often find me crying, screaming and jumping up and down in my bed in the middle of the night. She discovered I had been having nightmares of dogs attacking me. The nightmares faded but my annoyance and even fear of dogs continue to this day.
OK, I get it. People love their dogs, I choose not to. It's not that I hate them. I just am not a fan of being around dogs.
There was a time in my life that was especially tough for me. It was one of those times when you say to yourself "this is not where I am supposed to be at this point in my life." Nevertheless, I was there and fortunately for me so was my friend Andrea and her floor. Oh, also her short haired dachsund named Spud.
I would sleep on Andrea's floor on a pallet of blankets and sheets. I had an incredibly crappy job, little if no money and to top things off on this certain day, my car had been reposessed earlier in the evening. Like I said not a good time. Feeling extremely depressed I crawled into my makeshift bed, stretched out my legs and enjoyed the tiny bit of comfort I had knowing that at least I had this to be thankful for. My eyes were just starting to relax when I noticed something wet at the bottom of the pallet. "How in the world did the blankets get wet" I thought.
Upon closer inspection I discovered the perpetrator.
Spuds bladder control problems were not limited to bedding. The dog would pee on ANYTHING. Often we would pick up the phone only to say "hello" into a wet receiver and turn away in disgust as our lips dripped with dog urine.
Andrea and I had no washer and dryer and I found myself walking, blankets in hand to a laundry center at midnight to clean what was basically the only thing I had left in the world. After an hour and a half I returned to the apartment and began assembling my bed again. Mentally, I was just drained. I had cried, cursed and finally consoled myself back into a state that I thought just may by some luck allow me to finally rest my weary mind and go to sleep. I crawled into the fresh bedding and thought to myself "how could anything get any worse?" Rest was seeping into my brain when my foot switched places and " OH SWEET BABY JESUS!" "SPUD!" I screamed
my foot had landed in another puddle of dog urine at the bottom of my soaked blankets. Spud had evidently left the gift for me in the freshly laundered bed after I had shut the door to go to the bathroom. Literally thirty seconds alone time I had allowed myself. For just a brief moment I thought about defecating on the animal to see how he liked it and then thought how comfortable that shorthaired skin might feel to sleep on tonight. The only thing saving Spud that night was the thought of me getting kicked out of Andrea's apartment once she found her dog lying lifeless in a pile of human turds and me crying and rocking back and forth in the corner.
Beleive it or not I don't hate dogs. I don't think of them as evil or even unfriendly. It was quite the opposite, as a matter of fact, during a recent date I had had. I found out the level of closesness and friendship a dog can develop in a very short time. This was a first date, very casual, and I had been chatting and having drinks with a guy at his house. This was my first time being invited over and also a first time to meet his 80 lb Golden Retriever. The dog was what you would consider a little too friendly and had what appeared to be an uncontrollable slobbering problem to go along with his lack of respect for personal space.
I spent most of the evening trying to push the dogs head out of my crotch. I would stand up, turn around, angle my body a different direction and each time the dog would finds its way back and center it's attention on my reproductive system.
While embarassing me, this didn't seem to bother my date in the least. Did he not see me covering my groin? Was it not obvious I didn't enjoy the attention. You would think my running around the room and twisting my body like a contortionist to drive the dog away would have sparked somewhat of a clue that I might not think this as being as cute as he did. OH NO!, Now I was getting worried. What if he had trained the dog in some perverse behavior? I tried to push that idea out of my mind and continue with the conversation.
I sat back down on the couch and the dog made another beeline for me. What the hell man? Had I accidentally slipped some dog treats into my boxer briefs before heading out for the evening? That is when I thought to ask my guest "So do you have a treat for the dog?" My host went to the kitchen and returned with a handful of dog treats he then handed the dog. I thought this plan ingenious, but of course as my luck goes, backfired. The dog gobbled down the treats and had returned its attention to me. I now sat on the couch covered in so much dog saliva it looked like I had wet my pants. To make matters worse I was now encrusted with dog biscuit crumbs.
The unwanted attention got so uncomfortable I finally excused myself from the date. I made a mental note that if there was a second date I would bring a dog bone stuffed with Benadryl.
So to summarize. Dog pee and dog saliva, bad. Dogs, good. Unless by chance the person I end up spening the rest of my life with owns a dog, I most likely never will. I truly believe dogs can provide companionship, health benefits, loyalty and years of unconditional love. It's a doggone shame those qualities come with urine and slobber to boot.
Dogs! e VIVA ahhahahah
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