So, for the past three weeks, I've have a wiener. A wiener dog that is. The one and only Slappy, Leslie's pride and joy (and by pride and joy I mean pain in the ass), a seven year old tan dachshund dog. She is very, very sweet and snuggly and dances and somehow manages to poop her body weight daily. I'm serious, drops it like it's hot like 4-6 times a day. It's a freak of nature that dog's digestive system, like her food is rigged with some colon blow. (I'd post a photo of Slappy but my camera is broken) She really is a sweet creature and she's come to actually like the cat; they touch noses now and then the cat tries to molest her. That's what Slappy gets for befriending a cat, let this be a lesson to you potential cat people: stay away. Now Slappy is probably the most low maintenance dog that has ever lived, I mean a walk around the circle and those little two inch legs are tuckered out. But she does do two things I can't handle: the aforementioned fecal barrage and the occasional vomit. Can't handle at all. Like I actually threw up a little bit this morning because of it.I've said it before and I stand by my claim that I have the maternal instinct of a cinder block. Like if someone hands me a baby, I just sort of stare at it then try to engage it in conversation, like, "So...what do you think of the Democratic Primary process?" or "What's your favorite podcast?" questions I wouldn't even ask an adult but I freeze up around babies and suddenly I sound like a wannabe correspondent for "Morning Edition". It's the same with babies, kittens, dogs, probably lizards and/or bear cubs I just don't have the frame of reference. That cuddling, maternal thing just isn't there. Slappy and I have an understanding in our cuddling: it's the take it or leave it variety, not the suffocating needy sort. That I can handle. A little bit. In small increments of time. I mean normally I don't even have a houseplant I take care of. Being responsible for someone else isn't a forte of mine.
Once a child is somewhere between the ages of 3 and 12 and 16 and death I'm totally fine, but birth to three and 12 to 16 I'm right out. See? Cinder block. Like put a cinder block in nerdy glasses and a smartass t-shirt and it would look like me as a babysitter, which is why I haven't baby sat since I was 13.
Yeah you keep that mental image.
5 comments:
Once you clean up enough vomit you'll get used to it. I did. I used to dry heave at the THOUGHT of vomit, but now I clean it up no problem. Unless I just ate, and then I dry heave and sometimes puke a little too.
Nope, still can't get over any vomit or anything like that. I can't even talk about it. Any sort of bodily function makes me gag. blugh.
I just am going to say, "I am sorry." My dog does puke cause she eats grass. She's ridiculous and I can't do a thing about it. Thank you for loving her anyway. You forgot to mention the part about her being a lesbian tho...
hold on here... i mean... colon blow is a REAL product that one can order... Really? REALLY?
I KNOW! I just googled Colon Blow for the SNL reference and suddenly a real product came up...amazing. I wish your birthday wasn't like 10 months from now or I'd totally buy it for you Doug. Not cuz you need it but because who doesn't want some Colon Blow in their cupboard. I know I do(n't).
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