Meet Bogey. He is our housemate this month as we are sharing a home with my man's kind parents. Bogey is a murderer. Last week, he killed at least five fluffy, chirping, innocent baby quails. I'm sure there were more, but my little sis found five tiny dead guys in the grass. Today, Bogey proudly brought this vole to me and said with his body language, "You are welcome. I am a warrior. Where is my treat?"
It is no secret that I am not an animal lover. (This is where half of you start judging me for being evil.) The last pet I had was a nasty little gerbil with a temper. I was 10. After a few months of becoming disillusioned with cleaning his cage, smelling his mammal stench, and being bitten when trying to show my affection, I accepted my dad's offer to take him to a place where he could roam free with friendly possums and rabbits. (My dad took him out to the desert where he most likely was eaten by an owl within 12 hours. Good riddance!)
So pets aren't my thing. I don't like the smells they emit even when they're supposedly clean. I don't enjoy it when they jump on me in greeting. I don't like having to brush their hair off my clothes, even if I am already covered in baby slobber.
With my in-laws out of town, Bogey has deemed me his temporary mother. When I leave the room, he follows me. When I go outside, that's where he wants to be. So yesterday, I was going to relax in my room while the punk was taking a nap. I noted that the pup was dozing in the living room and planned to take that opportunity to make my escape. As I silently stood from my chair, Bogey's eyes flipped open and his ears stood up. Dang. I casually started walking around the room, hoping he would just think I was moving to a different chair. No, he sensed my intent to defect. He stood up and started to follow me. I slowly walked around the corner and heard him casually saunter behind me. As I rounded the corner, I booked it up the stairs. When he realized I had started running, he came bounding up the stairs, closing the distance between us. My adrenaline was pumping as I wondered if I would make it to the bedroom door before he did. Yes! I made it! Sweet victory was mine! As I frantically shut the door behind me, I realized what I had just done. I had narrowly outsmarted a dog. Genius.
6 comments:
Funny story! I think some cats and dogs sense when you are super annoyed with them, and they get worse. My neighbor's cat actually lifts its leg like a dog and pees on you. And whenever I don't want my dog around, that's when he becomes the most annoying. It's the short man syndrome, I think. They know they'll never be as important as the humans. Poor Bogey. What does Calvin think about the murderer?
Calvin loves Bogey! He follows him around the kitchen in his walker. Bogey follows me and Calvin follows Bogey.
I hope with all my heart that I am still reading your blog when the punk is old enough to say "look mom! the neighbors dog had puppies, Can I keep him?"
I knew we were friends for a reason.
I do not like animals.
I think it's silly when people compare their animal (or love of their animal) to my child.
My child will never own an animal. Of any type. We already killed two fish...
I totally remember trying to play with that gerbil. What is the point of a pet gerbil? Or any pet rodent for that matter. Sick.
Thanks for posting again. I was beginning to miss you.
I don't like animals either. Not use to them and I don't cater to their wants or needs.
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