So this morning I was thinking about writing something on here. I know I just posted yesterday but I also know that nobody is as excited about our garden as we are and I don’t want to be boring. So I was sitting at my desk thinking about all of the stuff going on in my life, mostly good, a little bad, wondering what I should blog about. I have a few blog entries that are in draft form yet but I wasn’t really feeling them today.
I started thinking about my husband and just like that ::snaps fingers:: my phone rang. “Who is on the other line?” you ask? Well, my husband, of course! We chit chatted briefly and then the cut to the chase.
He wants a dog. He wants a dog so badly that he can taste it. He wants a dog so badly that he has gotten Brock to start asking me for one for his “burfday”. I’m highly opposed to a dog for a few reasons:
1) We have had dogs before and they are alot of work. We have two children and some days I have a hard time remembering to feed and water bathe them. Another hungry body to worry about seems like alot of extra stress.
2) One of the above mentioned children is completely consumed by a common disease among children her age. I know she will grow out of it, but still–it is a burden. It’s called: I’m-mobile-and-put-everything-in-my-mouth-itis. It afflicts 1 out of every 1.5 children in the United States and my daughter has it. Which means, she will be eating not only the normal disgusting shit on our floor (which is usually from her during mealtime anyway) but now she will be forced to eat dog hair, dirt (although she does enjoy eating dirt already), and any other rancid crap that the dog brings in the house.
3) Greg claims that the dog will stay outside. Psssssh. He cannot say no to a homeless man when they are asking for beer money (literally–he has given a homeless guy money when his sign said “Why lie? I need beer.” Klassy.) so how is he going to say “no” to his kids when they are giving him sad little stories about why the dog should get to come in the house.
4) Vet bills. Oh mah goodness, the vet bills. When we had a boxer, we had to take her to the emergency vet on Christmas Eve because she tried to escape from our fenced-in back yard and gave herself a lovely little gash on her side that required 10 stitches and a $400 vet bill. Then the little retard ate a bee (or a wasp, I’m still not sure) and broke out in hives and her eyes swelled shut. I had to take her to the emergency vet again (of course it happened on a Saturday night) and do you know what they gave her?! Benadryl. That’s right. 2 children’s Benadryl. Couldn’t they tell me that over the phone? Nope. That night cost us $200. That’s not counting all the shots and routine care that is involved in a pet.
But apparently, we are getting a dog. I am disgusted with how weak I am. At least now, we know what we are getting the kids for their birthday . . .
Oh and these two? These are the two that he fell in love with last night:
Luckily the bottom one has a new home but the top one is still an option. And, of course, there is the humane society. Which he has now convinced me that I should go with him tonight. Just to look. Riiiiiiiiight.