Dogs: A Rant About Pseudo Parenting

They're driving me crazy.

They follow me everywhere I go; their tags jingle a persistent chorus as I walk from room to room.

They sleep with me - which is really cute, and not at all annoying. Except when they hog the covers and I can't turn over for fear of waking them. One often sleeps under the covers, as close to body heat as he can be. He snores. The other sleeps at my feet, silently. When I stir at the sound of the alarm, they are ready. Kissing faces and growling happy growls. We get up, we go to the yard, we run. Unfortunately today, it has started to rain. Our visit to the outdoor cat-chasing playground is abbreviated.

I make coffee - there they are, under my feet. "You don't like coffee," I tell them. They start leaping and jumping, excited to try it, anyway. "Give us coffee! We like whatever you like!"

I sit on the couch, coffee cup in hand, laptop on lap - there they are, sitting on me. "You can't blog," I tell them, taking a sip from my coffee cup. They climb towards me, sniffing the cup, doggy feet stomping my keyboard to get closer to it. "We want the coffee! We want the computer! Blog? Sure! Let's do stuff together!"

I get up from the couch to shower - they leap from the couch, tails wagging, tags jingling, nails clicking on the hardwood, and they follow me to the bathroom. "I am shutting the door," I tell them. They reluctantly stop at the door and I shut it - but not quite all the way - and can see them pacing outside. I can hear their tags slowly swinging with their gait. "Where is she? How long will she be gone? What's in there, anyway? We want to go!"


I make breakfast - they follow me from the fridge to the counter, from the sink to the garbage, from the stove to the island. Sniffing, jingling, trying to catch whatever hits the floor. "This is people breakfast. You already had your breakfast," I say. They leap up, jumping, happy growling, excited. "C'mon, just give us a little bit! We're so worthy. People food! People food!"

"Cookie," I say.
They leap higher. They talk louder, whimpering, growling, panting.
"I guess that's a yes," I say.

One eats his cookie in an inhalation. The other likes to chase his, and eat it slowly. Of course, this means the Inhaler follows the Slow Eater and watches, waiting for crumbs, which he will eat if allowed. I have to watch and reprimand, "That's not your cookie! Be nice!"

I appreciate the adoration. I do. I appreciate the companionship. Really.

But, please, stop following me. I'm not doing anything interesting and I promise that if I am doing something incredibly cool and dog-relevant, you two will be the absolute first to know.

I'm not even sure if I want children, but I hope I feel more inclined to their needs and their persistence than I do the Dogs. If only because I know a child's excitement cannot be rewarded or quelled simply by flaunting a two syllable word: Cookie.

I'm going to go throw the ball around with them now. The Inhaler will chase the ball relentlessly, the Slow Eater usually spots the ball by the time the Inhaler has brought it back to my feet. He tries... he tries.

Anyway, rain or shine - energy needs to be expended and everyone should be having more fun around here. You, too.

-k.