Nothing cures a ticking biological clock like dog-sitting. For the past 5 days, I’ve been playing “Auntie” for one beautiful Golden Retriever and two loveable (but skittish) cats, and I truly HAVE enjoyed my time with them. But I must say, any previous desire within me to own a dog any time soon has faded completely.
Meet Oscar:
Sure he’s loveable, majestic, regal…everything that a good family dog should be. And when he looks at me with those eyes, sitting calmly on the couch watching TV with me, I could almost swear I was in love. But all of that ended the moment he turned his rear towards me and let out the most horrific stench possible, a smell so bad that you would swear no animal on earth could have produced it—worse than what your creepy uncle squeaks out after you ‘pull his finger’. This was a nightly occurrence that left me wondering two things: 1) What on earth is in that dog food?! and 2) Why does the smell only bother me? Because Oscar seems quite proud of himself after his little toot-fest…
One of the many great things about Oscar, however, was his ability to entertain himself. Sure, he liked to steal the decorative pillows off the guest bed, or slobber on my shoes—he even ate one the last morning I was there (which forced me to wear my bright pink Crocs to work…picture that sexyness!). Oscar’s favorite real toy was a purple stretchy monkey that squeaked…I say “was” because on the fourth night, the purple stretchy monkey died a cruel death.
Which of course meant that I got to clean up all the monkey innards stuffing.
Add to that mess an entire TREE BRANCH of wood splintered all over the house on the first night, the photo-album he shredded not only in the house but in the yard too, plus the shoe that he ate, and I think you’ll understand why I was more than happy to surrender the leash back to his owners on Wednesday night. Oscar, I love you…but I’m glad I’m not your real mommy.
