I am the butt of a lot of cat lady jokes. Need proof? I recently found this in my mailbox at school:
No, I did not put it on my car.
Another colleague led staff devotions and explained that she still had morning voice because unlike some of us, (looks straight at me) she doesn’t talk to a cat in the morning. Dotty totally answers back, so I really don’t think it’s that weird.
Yes, I recently wrote a sample argumentative essay arguing that cats are better than dogs. Sure, I probably post a few too many pictures of Dotty on Instagram. And yeah, this happens more often than I’d like to admit:
Her favorite time to be pet is when I’m on the toilet. Weird, I know.
But despite the growing evidence that I am one of those over the top, covered in cat hair, cat-loving cat ladies, I actually really love dogs. Like I get weirdly attached to them. When I was 13 and found our golden retriever, Odie, dead in the kitchen when I was home alone, I screamed until neighbors on both sides and across the street came running over. Talk about traumatizing.
When someone tells me that they don’t like dogs, I try to not judge them, but I totally do. How can anyone NOT like dogs?
So when nearly my entire family went to Hawaii for ten days, I had no problem house-sitting and watching their dogs: Nike, Nash, and Dunkin.
However, those 10 days were riddled with confessions. It started when my brother brought his dog, Nash, over.
Instead of telling you the story, I’ll let you read the text Trent sent the family, but let me preface it by explaining that I was eating Thin Mints and drinking milk when Nash jumped on top of me. The screaming was hardly unprovoked.
I know I don’t sound like much of a dog-lover in that text, but Nash had just completely ruined my dessert and I was covered in milk! If you had just been clobbered by a giant dog while trapped under a blanket, you’d probably be pretty annoyed too. Right?
Despite the rough start, I warmed up to Nash, especially when he got sleepy and became a snuggler at night. Because yes, I let dogs sleep on the bed with me. When I mentioned this in the teacher’s lounge, one of my colleagues was so disgusted that he looked like I had said that I eat dog ticks. But I had grown up sharing my bed with Odie, then Swish, and even Gizmo who would climb under my mosquito net and hog the bed in Mozambique. So this scene:
was totally normal for me.
Walking the three boys to the park was a bit of an adventure.
because moments after I took this picture, I dropped Dunkin’s leash, Nike swerved behind me, and chaos ensued. I was too panicked to pay any attention to all the people in cars pointing and laughing.
When we got to the park, I took off their leashes and let them run free. Nike, my parent’s lab, always stayed right by my side but my sister’s golden and my brother’s golden doodle had other ideas. They found friends. If you watch THIS VIDEO you’ll witness Nash’s impressive soccer skills. You’ll also hear me breathing awkwardly loud, for which I apologize.
The three sometimes stayed right on my heels, though. In fact, one of them clipped my heel and I nearly did a face plant but caught myself as I screamed and flailed. When I looked back to reprimand the tripper, I discovered that the culprit was actually a pit bull who had joined our pack. His owner was sprinting towards us to get his dog, surely laughing to himself about my scream and near fall.
If you follow me on Instagram, you know that people like me are the reason you should NEVER put your lips on a drinking fountain.
Sure it’s a little gross, but dogs get thirsty too, y’all.
When we got home, Dunkin tried to sniff Nash when he was relieving himself, so Dunkin ended up getting peed on.
Then I nearly peed on Nash’s favorite toy because Trent and Teri failed to mention that he likes to put his ball in the toilet:
Yes, I did have to reach my hand in to retrieve it.
And Heidi forgot to warn me about Dunkin’s habit of snacking on underwear.
But despite some chewed undies, massive roaming hairballs in the kitchen, and some super muddy floors, there wasn’t too much damage done. All the dogs survived and Dotty was only slightly pissed that I had left her for 10 days.
Now it’s time for your dog confessions. Do you let them share the bed or does that thought disgust you? Has your underwear ever been eaten by your dogs? Were you traumatized by “Where the Red Fern Grows” or “Old Yeller” like I was? Any and all dog confessions can be made here.