Gays and lesbians love their pets...like they are children. And no one will dispute that. So when you're a single gal, and your coupled lesbians go on vacation, and ask you to look after Spot and Fido, the pressure is on! Especially when you grew up with cats, and in your state of perpetual singlehood, you fear becoming the dreaded cat lady. Perhaps it was that fear that convinced me I needed to re-evaluate myself as a "cat person." Maybe I could understand the ways of the "dog people." And after 5 days, here is what I came up with...live and learn, as the old saying goes:
1) I've realized and accepted that I will probably never become a "dog person". Despite what I might tell you, it isn't true. If you hear me utter that in some sort of description of myself, it's because I want to:
a) sleep with you
b) take you for ice cream
c) be your best friend
or
d) all of the above
2) I can love a dog at a distance. I really really can. But after a few days the following observations ground my patience to the quick:
a) the "dog stink"...you know what I am talking about.
b) the barking at non-existant sound/movement when you are trying to pass out on the couch in front of the TV after being nice enough to let them cuddle with you in your personal space.
c) the need to be perpetually sitting underfoot
d) the stray hairs stuck to my jacket (which will inevitably end up stuck between my eyeball and my contact lens)
e) the jealousy between multiple dogs competing for your attention.
f) the way they "act dumb" but totally have the ability to understand and execute revenge.
g) ok, it wasn't so much the SMELL of the poo when I had to pick up crap, but the warmth I felt thru the bag that made my gag reflex go ape-shit. That feeling never resolved itself like I had hoped/predicted.
h) the embarassing actions of herding involved with keeping 2 oddly-sized dogs calm and away from other, often smaller, dogs. And that goes hand-in-hand with the embarassment from getting evil looks from other dog owners when you can't calm your dogs and keep them away from their dog. I felt like I needed a t-shirt that says, "Don't give me that look, I'm typically a cat person, and these are SO not my dogs!"
and finally,
i) their insistence on CONSTANTLY pushing their cold, wet noses on your bare arm just to sniff you AGAIN after you left the room for 2 seconds (which they followed you into anyway and stared you down while you were microwaving a lean cuisine).
3) Should the owners of said dogs read this, be assured I was not at all put-out by dogsitting. It was fun for so many reasons such as:
a) having a temporary family.
b) I felt responsible and counted on for once.
c) getting me out of a lame phone call, "Uh sorry, I have to go, the dogs are barking at air again."
d) getting me some exercise.
e) picking out their daily TV. Today Animal Planet...tomorrow TV Land (they really like The Brady Bunch).
f) at least SOMEONE was happy to see me come home at the end of the day.
g) I could bitch endlessly about anything knowing I wasn't wasting someone else's time.
h) using them to make friends...which didn't actually happen, but I could see the potential.
Sure, we had our moments of tension, and I know how the above must sound, but honestly our Sunday morning walk was SO pleasant I rewarded them with a small handful of kibble and watched the football games with them. Henry (the weinerdog) likes the Colts and Packers for the Superbowl and Gus (the bulldog)...well, Gus didn't actually pick a team but kinda layed there and chewed the corner of the wall...I'm betting he's a Browns fan.
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