This Makes Me Sick

I'm a pretty sensitive kind of guy. I really am. So, when folks start talking about their kids incessantly I indulge as much as I can. I try, I really do. I have kids of my own, both biological and step. I get it, you're proud. I am too. Which of course is why I indulge, I'm guilty of the same thing. I talk too long, show pictures to people who don't care and can't stop myself. That's just part of having kids.

But then, some folks go and do the same thing about their pets. Oh god no.

I'm about to become one of those people too.

I have a dog, I love it. It's the probably the best dog in the world. It's a 110 pound Great Pyrenees. How good is this dog? Well, I can leave the trash out all day because I pulled it from the trash can on my way to work and then forgot to take it out to the trash can outside. It's full of pizza crust, leftover chicken, cookies, whatever. I come home nine hours later and she is patiently waiting for me. Trash untouched.

She has a bell hanging from the door to the backyard, she just goes and rings the bell when she wants out. When I tell her to come, she comes. When I tell her to leave something alone, she does. She does all sorts of tricks upon command. If I open the door to the backyard to bring her in she sits and waits for me to give her permission before entering. I think she would wipe her feet if I put a mat out for her.

Best. Dog. Ever.

Anyway, as much as I love my dog. As a rule, I don't like pets. They are just walking heartaches, determined to make you care more about them than you thought possible... then they'll go get run over by a car or die of old age after a mere decade or so. Not worth it.

So anyway, I show up at the house after work on Thursday and what is sitting in my living room?

Why is there a squirrel in my house?

There is this bony, neglected, pitiful creature shivering in the floor with the entire family huddled around it. Every one is just staring at it like it's baby Jesus. Sigh.

Actually, it looks just like Dobby from the Harry Potter movies.

We took it to the vet, we think it will live. The family almost started to cry together when I referred to it as "dog" instead of "Drake." Yikes, heartbreak here we come.

Of course I was worried about how our existing dog will react. I should have known. She seems to be as enamored as the rest of the family is. They took turns guarding the back of the house today.

He'll learn how to drool soon.

Wait. maybe it's a bat

So, whatever. I'm nothing if not adaptable. I have two dogs now. I think I can keep from turning this into a "guess what my dogs did today" blog. So everyone can relax. I just figured I'm obligated to welcome the newest member of the family.

Also, it gave me a great excuse to not work on my synopsis for my novel. I've written it too many times and I'm so sick of working on it.

I freaks me out that if it isn't good, my novel will be rejected without the first word being read. I'm going to have a heart attack.