Friday, June 09, 2006

I love The Simpsons. One of my all-time favorite lines is in the episode in which Homer runs for Springfield Sanitation Commissioner. He says: "Animals are crapping in our houses and we're picking it up! Did we lose a war? This isn't America! This isn't even Mexico."

On that note, let me tell you about our dog. His name is Midnight. (Guess what color his fur is?) He is a Mini-Schnauzer. Those of you who know me may well be asking yourselves what on earth possessed me to get a dog. This is a good question. Maybe I will elaborate on that at some future date. For now, just imagine I was drugged and dragged to the pet store.

Midnight is a pestilence upon my household. He refuses to eat any form of dog food, drinks only running water, and yet he jumps at the chance to munch on a filthy diaper or human vomit. Sometimes the latter follows closely on the heels of the former. I have a fairly sensitive gag reflex.

When I get home from work I always kiss and hug all of the kids. Every day Midnight waits for his turn. He's going to be waiting a long, long time. I feel bad because he is an affectionate little dog and would love it if I would let him lick me on the face. Unfortunately, I have a pretty strict policy against getting licked by creatures that lick their own cornholes. Yet they say dogs mouths are cleaner than peoples mouths. How could that possibly be true?

This whole thing is turning me into a compulsive hand-washer. I can't touch the dog without washing my hands afterwards. I can't take it.

We've been keeping the dog food in the garage. There's enough bad-smelling stuff in the house as it is. The result of this is that we have a rodent problem in the garage now. Today I found three mice trapped in a garbage can near the food. I got the kids out of the garage and set to destroying the mice with the butt end of a two-by-four. I've never killed anything larger than a housefly in my life, but I had to do it. Dog ownership has transformed me into a brute.

This is the pestilence Midnight has brought down upon my head. I rue the day we became dog people. Why didn't we just get a cat? I wouldn't touch a cat either, but it wouldn't give a crap about that because cats don't give a crap about anything but chasing mice and burying their own crap. And both of those behaviors are fine by me.

3 comments:

AzĂșcar said...

I cannot believe you have a schnauzer.

*Boggled*

Marty said...

Dave, nice story. My wife feels the same way about our Beagle. He is in love with her though, and has to sit and/or lay by her at night.

I predict the day when we will see you at a rally with midnight in a sidecar with doggles on.

Marty from Pocatello

La Yen said...

I found you through Carina, who commented that while sitting next to my two schnauzers. TWO. Because we are stupid. I refer to them as my main dog, and my back-up dog who I love significantly less.
When they get out, I figure that they will either come home, or someone who wants them will just take them home. And either will be fine at this point, because I am tired of the nonsense.
(But really, if main dog never came back I would cry a little.)