Saturday, August 11, 2007

Eww-yew Boo-boo Dew-dew

I am not a dog person. Even before Newmommy got pregnant, I have been scheming my side of the "Can We Get a Dog, Daddy?" discussion so that the end result is not one where I pick up an animal's feces with a plastic bag. Honestly, do you see those doodie-handlers? That's grosser than diaper changing, hands-down!

Good friends of ours got a dog two days ago. This dog happens to rank pretty high on the cuteness scale and, coming from me that's pretty huge. Not having been around dogs for much of my life, I didn't realize that getting a dog is a lot like bringing home a baby. First of all, a once one-language household becomes dual-language: English and babytalk. People talk to dogs as if they are babies..."whose mommy's good boy?" "Did shumone go pee-pee?" Second, dog responsibilities seem very similar to baby responsibilities. Last night, the couple we were with had to return to their home because the dog was alone. And, when we got there, they had to clean up doggy poop or puke, or whatever that brown stuff was. Third, dogs require "stuff"...squeeky toys, a bed, special food...soon, the owner's stuff is displaced for stuff for the new arrival. Finally (and to round out this nicely-structured third-grade-style four-point paragraph), dogs seem to instantly become the object of the family's affection, over everyone else...just like when you bring home a baby. I don't want to steal Louis C.K.'s bit from "Shameless", but it basically involves a once-close married couple bringing home their baby...their flesh-and-blood, the person for whom they would take a bullet, and then looking at each other asking, "who the fuck are you?"

So, no, we're never getting a dog. I can list the reasons (responsibilities, walking, the smell, etc.) But it's mostly the handling of dog poop. And, in the immortal words of Sarah Silverman, "I don't need two reasons when doody's involved."

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