I always talk about not wanting kids, and how pets are enough work for me. I have a running list going for the dog, and how she is similar to a toddler:
- she doesn’t talk, but she understands a few words
- she needs us to feed her
- she needs our help to go potty
- no matter where or when she falls asleep, we know we’ll wake up with her in our bed
- we’re rarely able to have a moment to ourselves without being interrupted
- she doesn’t like to share
- she tests boundaries constantly and thinks it’s a game – she knows what she’s supposed to do but refuses to listen. This could also qualify as “teenager.”
- she uses cuteness to try to get her way
- leave her alone for five minutes (or less) and she could destroy anything
- she has terrible manners
- she pukes on the carpet
- she puts everything in her mouth
But it’s not just the dog. The cats seem mild mannered and unassuming, especially compared to Enli, but secretly they’re little terrors. Not quite to as large a scale, but still. Lucy mostly just scratches stuff and wakes me up too early. But Buck is pure evil. Tonight I brought home a bag from Target. Just a few things we needed for dinner for the rest of the week. I put away the things that needed to be refrigerated, and left a box of spaghetti in the bag on the kitchen counter while I went to tend to another task. Shortly afterward, Darren walked into the kitchen and asked “what did you spill on this bag?”
But then…
“Or, wait. It smells like the cat peed on the bag.”
Yes. Buck was on the counter and totally peed on the shopping bag.
What. The. Heck.
It’s true, though. Sometimes he pees on stuff. He did it more when he was younger – he destroyed a couple pairs of shoes and his own bed – but the counter? What a jerk.
Don’t be fooled.
Sigh. I love all the little buggers, but man. Sometimes I wonder what made us think three pets was a good idea.
And then I remember that Enli is going to be a princess for Halloween this year and it makes me laugh and laugh.
fearlessly, myself. 