In my home, there is an unequal balance of power between my children and the pets.
I adore my furry beasts. They will never take precedence over my human babies, but I have noticed they get away with a lot more than my kids do, like…
Eating vomit and trash. Twilight, the middle child of the three pups, will eat ANYTHING. This includes cat poop, used maxi pads, crayons, and her poop.
Shred their stuffed animals or their bed. All of the dogs tend to disembowel their stuffed toys, beds, or anything that is plushy. Sparkles, the alpha female dog, eats the leftover bits and pieces. I discovered this shortly after I adopted them, losing several ducks and chewy ropes in a matter of days. This resulted in me having to pull remnants of rope out of Sparkles’ butt when they were trapped upon their exit.
Sparkles Merida, a Schnauzer like no other.
Beg. Tiny is the littermate of Twilight, but you’d never know they were related because she is one-third of her sister’s size. She loves snacks and belly rubs, and isn’t afraid to ask for them. Repeatedly. Tiny throws herself on her back and squirrels around until you scratch her tummy, where she sits contentedly until you stop, at which point she weaves around your legs until you scratch her again. This goes on for a good 20 minutes until I can escape without getting tangled up in the dog.
Poop on the carpet. Twilight is usually the culprit. This is the primary reason why I am the only one who loves her.
Lie on the steps and scare the bejeezus out of me. Hercules, a 15-year-old tabby cat, may be geriatric, but he loves to lie on the steps and leap at my ankles like a tiny ninja. When the steps are covered in cat-coordinated carpet and I’m carrying something upstairs, there is no way I will see him. I should by lying at the bottom of the steps in a broken heap while my cat prances on my corpse.
Tiny, the smallest of the small ones.
Leave their toys out. Do you know how much it hurts to step on a half-chewed Nylabone? Imagine a pile of Legos that have been filed down to sharp points and then torched so they are nice and toasty. Then, step on them. That about covers it.
Roll in carrion. The dogs are mighty scent hunters, and when they find a particularly delicious scent, they want to cover themselves in it. Kind of like when I wear perfume. Unfortunately, the dogs love things that stink. Cicadas, ants, barf, skunk sprayed grass; you name it. Then they like to come and snuggle up to share their putrescence with me.
Lick up the water left behind when I shower. Whenever Hercules wants to let me know that his water dish is empty, he goes into my shower and drinks his fill. I don’t think he’ll die, but I don’t understand how it can be delicious. Would you want to drink a big cup of dirt and soap? Blech.
Twilight. Poor, sad, middle child.
Run through the house like maniacs. The animals get a wild hair up their butt, and start chasing each other up the stairs, down the stairs, and around in circles. They are barking, jumping, and getting underfoot. The cacophony is deafening, but in the end they end up in a furry heap on the floor. I thoroughly enjoy the silence when that happens.
If my kids did any of the above, I would lose my crackers. In the case of eating their poop or rolling in a pile of dead bugs, I would vomit and then the entire neighborhood would hear my rage. Sadly, when I have to discipline the pets, I just say, “Bad dog!” or, “No, Hercules!”
What makes one different from the other? You could argue that kids should know better or that animals don’t have the brain capacity to realize that what they are doing is disgusting. But no one, man or beast should be doing these things. At the very least, they should not be doing them in front of me.
Seriously, it’s pretty gross. It’s a good thing they are cute, because poop breath is not. Now excuse me while I go and rub a tummy before cleaning up a little cat barf.
Ponies and Martinis 