I have been sitting on a couch, staring at this blank screen, trying to come up with something to write. My ever faithful companions, Tiny, Twilight, and Sparkles are right by my side supporting me, but not doing a very good job of suggesting writing topics.
Or, maybe they are a font of information and I am just too ignorant to understand them.
As Twilight drapes herself on my shoulders, Tiny nibbles on a bone by my knees, and Sparkles cleans the ears of her sisters, I start to feel a little jealous. Seriously, how great would it be to live like a dog?
When you’re a dog, you sleep as much as you want. Tired? Take a nap. Bored? Take a nap. It’s Tuesday at 2 PM? Take a nap. I LOVE naps. Even when I was little, and most kids were giving up the afternoon siesta, I held on to mine with a death grip. I have no idea why my kids give up theirs so quickly. You’d think if they had even an ounce of my great respect for slumber, they would still be napping and sleeping in later than 7 AM.
People cuddle you and rub your belly. The little dog, Tiny, will stop what she’s doing, flop on her back, and roll around like a worm on concrete until you scratch her tummy. When you do, her eyes close and that tiny pink tongue of hers slowly works its way in and out of her mouth. That is pure joy. Now, I don’t know if I want people rubbing my belly, but I love a good back rub. When someone works out the knots in my shoulders, I am riding a cloud of bliss straight to Happy Town. I don’t stick my tongue out… well, maybe I do. I really don’t know.
No matter what you do, people will forgive you. My pups have demolished shoes, ingested at least a 64-pack of crayons, released all manner of stinky things from both ends of their body in my home and still I love them. The most I say to them is, “Puppies! Bad dogs!” Imagine if you could run through someone’s house, break whatever you wanted and pee on their living room floor, and all they would say to you is, “No, thank you.” You would be able to work through all manner of things. Your boss makes you mad? Poop on his desk. What can he do? Swat your nose with a newspaper? Yeah, it’s good to be a dog.
You can poop and someone else cleans it up. My dogs poop all over the yard, be it rainbows, rope, or just straight up feces, and I clean it up without fail. Every week, I fill up a plastic bag full of doggie droppings. As a side note, were you aware that if you leave poop outside, it gets moldy? Yup. Moldy poop. And I pick it up. I also scrub toilets, spritz Lysol on all the pee my son deposits outside of the toilet, flushes everything my daughter leaves behind and never complain. Okay, there’s a little complaining. But wouldn’t it be awesome if I pooped and someone else cleaned it up? Someone else had to scoop, spray, and flush? I’d be living the dream if that happened.
So, you see, the dog life is pretty sweet. One day, I’d like to live like a dog. Maybe not the pooping outside part. I mean, I can poop in the toilet and still have someone else clean it up, right? Is that acceptable in faux dog land? Well, even if it isn’t, I think I could be convinced to do otherwise if I get time for napping and back rubs.