Tag Archives: animals

Dog Owner

I know this story might not make me too many new friends, but here goes.

Being a dog owner does not necessarily mean you are a dog lover.

There, I said it!  I know this is an unpopular stance in the blog world, but here is my take. There are bazillions of examples of blogs dedicated to dogs and their cuteness and all. I get it. I understand that a dog is a man’s best friend—at least I’ve heard that saying. It just doesn’t necessarily apply to this man. My boys cracked me and turned me into a dog owner after only ten years of their own existence. I bought a dog several years ago. I still can’t believe it roams in my house. We brought this dog home and I named him Peeve. As in pet Peeve. My very own living, breathing pet Peeve.

Not cute when barfing on the carpet.

He is a Maltese Yorkie. When full-grown, this little ball of doggy cuteness will not top more than ten pounds. If he surpasses that weight, I will start removing parts until the ten pound limit is once again reached. Relax, I would do it humanely—start with the tail, move to the ears, find other non-essential parts. Come to think of it, he has already been fixed, so technically I’ve already started this process.

So tell me, how many of your “best friends” will graze in your front yard, eat as many rabbit turds as possible, and then barf them up on your carpet in three different rooms of your house? Man’s best friend. Nope.

And speaking of pet peeves, it rubs me completely wrong when people refer to me as the dog’s daddy. I am the dog’s owner. I paid for, with money, to have this beast live in my house and occasionally eat my wood-work. It didn’t require a single strand of my DNA, not even a single helix, to bring this dog into the world. So when people say to my dog as they pass by my yard, “Good doggy. Go back to your daddy!” I cringe inside and want to scream! “I’m the dog OWNER, not the father! Are you implying that maybe I had inappropriate relations with a dog? And this is the result, my son?”  But I’ll just clench my teeth and be silent–until I blog about it.

My dog (that I own) brings my children happiness. That’s what I bought into.  If I would have known that all this happiness comes from a creature that occasionally craps on the carpet, I could have handled the job myself.

Buy my book or I’ll crap on your carpet!