All I Lack Is A Beehive Hairdo

In: Flotsam & Jetsam

10 Oct 2014

My dog trainer has has requested that I read the book Pukka’s Promise. It is roughly the size of War and Peace and filled with enough sanctimony to choke the Pope.

In it, the perfect dog parent raises the perfect dog while living in the perfect environment for both of them. They eat organic foods, live in a house chosen for materials that would off gas within a month, they hunt elk to keep the dog in food, go hiking and skiing in the mountains, and send off the dog’s toys to be tested by an independent laboratory for toxins. And, they manage to do all this on just his paltry best-selling author salary!

Yesterday, I decided to take a small break from cleaning to see if I could get a couple of chapters in. I was in the middle of a huge pile of papers – mostly medical records and insurance filings for my dogs, proof of vaccinations, etc. – that all needed filing, and my dog Riley was reclining on his foam-filled orthopedic bed (probably toxic) resting his torn ACL (possibly torn because I got him neutered and the lack of sex hormones weakened his muscles.)

I stepped over Riley’s prone form (also overweight because he eats a grain based diet and doesn’t get enough exercise) and noted with dismay the dog hair that coated the microfiber furniture ( again, probably toxic), the dog toys (toxic! toxic! toxic!) that littered the floor, the dog medications, shampoos and implements that cluttered the bar, and sighed in dismay.

After locating my Kindle, I went back into the bedroom where Riley still lolled on his bed, and stepping over him once again, settled back into my chair at the center of the pile. I opened my Kindle with one hand while stacking handfuls of papers to be filed with the other. Our hero (Pukka the dog, in case you had to ask) was being served a frozen Kong toy stuffed with fresh bison pate, a treat that would both stimulate and satiate.

No sooner had I read the line and rolled my eyes when Riley raised his head and looked at my non-Kindle hand pleadingly. Puzzled, I glanced down and immediately saw the source of his interest; several business cards bristled from the stack and held his rapt attention. No bison pate for my boy, no siree! His favorite snack in the world is business cards. And he has a preference, too – he loves his mom’s and dad’s cards, but will leave my best friend’s and her husband’s cards for last.

So I did what any good dog parent would do – I handed my dog a business card. And spent the rest of the night pondering how on Earth I ended up the Peg Bundy of pet parents.

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