March 28th, 2007
I am officially in mourning over the no dog ruling. I spent most of last night sniffling on the couch and staring into space, which appeared to trouble Husband, so I put some Law and Order on so my behaviour would seem more normal. It’s perfectly normal to sniffle while staring at Lenny Brisco – come on, the dude is dead! Mostly I was in disbelief, because, seriously, what landlord doesn’t want a creature that will never learn to say “I need the toilet!” living in his condo? And how will I continue to function without a little mammal to love?
Finally I went to bed, and tossed and turned with guilt over the little puppy that I won’t be adopting, which will consequently suffer at the hands of a cruel adopter, who probably plans to make puppy stew when the dog turns two. And poke the puppy in the eye several times a day. What have I consigned my puppy to? Suffering! Deep suffering! I felt just the way I did when I gave away my cats (because Husband is allergic), and had nightmares about abandoning them for about two years.
This morning was spent grumbling and angry, and but now I’m becoming more resigned to the idea of no pet. I guess now I won’t be needing those puppy training books. And maybe I could love my quilt instead – I’ll give him the puppy’s provisional name (Otto von Bismarck), take him out to the yard several times a day to pee, go to the dog park with him to visit others of his kind, and whap him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper when he leaves a turd on the floor. Bad blanket, bad! Also, since he’s pretty big, I’ll have to make sure to train him not to jump up when people come to the door. Seriously, Otto the quilt is like seven feet tall.
Or you could have hubby dress up like a dog and whap him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. Some people like that sort of thing.
;~)