Great. It wasn't enough that my human relationships were complicated, conflicted and messy.Now, the movie "Marley and Me" has me reexamining my relationship with our dogs.
I thought things were going pretty well. We provide food and water, keep a consistent stock of rawhide chews and let them lay around without lifting a paw to help.
They, in turn, do basically nothing unless, of course, you count filling the yard with their poop and the house with their hair a contribution to society.
Or, when they are moved to action, they stand in the doorway and sniff your crotch when you're trying to walk inside with 10 grocery bags, three gallons of milk and laundry detergent.
So, yeah, on occasion, I have yelled, "Get out of the way you idiot!"
Yes, I have screamed, "you dumb dog," "fat pig," "get off the furniture," "you stink," for any number of offenses, ranging from leaving a gargantuan pile of crap on the kitchen floor to chowing through 20 pounds of food in one week and suffusing the air with really stinky farts.
Add in the skin tags and fatty tumors of the older one, and this pair truly is a joy.
Seriously, though, I do enjoy their big, hairy presence in the house.
Call them what you will, yell at them, and they still wag their tails silly if you look at them with the slightest hint of affection. They can be snoring in a full-on, dead sleep, yet sense your gaze and jump up, bounding over for a pat, forgetting that the last 99 times they did this you told them to go back and lie down.
Hmmm ... unconditional and undying love. Sounds a little like motherhood.
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