My children are constantly attempting to convince me that they need a dog. I, on the other hand clearly remember having a dog as a child. It was an awesome dog, not so big that it would knock you over, but not so small that it mistaken as a rodent.
She was a very peculiar animal; a Basinji. They are Egyptian hunting dogs, with pointy ears and a curly tail, and short, orange hair. The best part about them (and the only reason we got one) is that they clean themselves like a cat and they can't bark.
Even if they wanted to. They don't have vocal cords. Centuries of training them to be quiet trackers bred the bark right out of them. We had neighbors come over and make total fools of themselves because they were convinced they could make that mutt bark. It was hilarious.
You might think that a Basinji was the perfect dog because they don't need frequent baths or grooming, they don't bark and they're not too big. But until they find a dog that can feed itself and use the toilet, all dogs were, are, and always will be more trouble than they are worth. Not to mention that when that dog died it nearly broke my brother's heart.
I don't need a pet, I have kids instead.
Now, I'm a dumb man. But I do know that about a month after the "cute puppy" phase wears off, no one is going to want to feed, water, walk or play with the annoying dog who is desperate for their attention. But guess who will have to choose between doing it himself and listening to the whining complaints of the spoiled children who are told to do it?
Let's look at Squizzle as our paradigm. When he was less than a month old, we had to keep a list of who's turn it was to burp the baby, who got to change the baby, who got to choose the baby's outfits....these are the fights you have with three older sisters.
But now that he walks (Yeah; walks. He decided on Saturday that walking was almost as fast as crawling but has the added bonus of being able to carry things in your hands. Much more fun!)and has a mind of his own and isn't so much "fun" to take care of, his sisters could care less if he wanders around in a dirty diaper with a snotty nose while finding and eating floor treats.
If they treat their BROTHER like that, how long do you figure it'll be before I have to be the one to take care of the $%#!! dog?
I'm not doing it.
But the subjects of Squizzle, dogs and floor treats all bring me to my point for the morning. While we were watching my sister in law's dog this weekend, I found myself not once, twice or thrice; but rather a dozen times asking Squizle (or more directly his sisters who were supposed to be watching him) why he was once again partaking from Zoe's bowl.
It seems that my one year old has a craving for kibble.
Did you ever think as a parent that the words "Son! Don't eat out of the dog bowl" would escape your lips?
Me neither. But this weekend, they did. Frequently.
And that, oh daughters of mine, is precisely why you will never own a dog while living under my roof.
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