Petco is “Where the PETS GO”?. . . Have You SEEN My Carpet?



. . . I have never been part of any “Get Rich Quick Scheme”. In fact, I was recently informed I have (unwittingly) been part of aStay Poor for an Indefinite Period of Time Ruse. So what have I done to remedy the situation? Well, I’ve been WORKING. . . in between “Delusions of Grandeur” . . . Trying to pay the bills, keep the kids fed, the pets spay or neutered. . . you know. . . living the DREAM.
 . . . I mention the PETS, because we seem to be amassing a small petting zoo (unbeknownst to my landlord) Oh, we’ve had more animals in our “custody” in the past. But my kids seem to think that we are the “Dr. Doolittle Clan” when it comes to animals. And They LOVE “NEW” animals. . . for precisely 1 week. After pestering my wife and I incessantly for the better part of “as long as I can remember”, with promises of caring for the pets, nurturing them, grooming them, picking up the occasional “Wedge-Whoppers, Sidewalk Sausages or Chocolate Blossoms” in our yard – we ALWAYS cave in. . . We purchase an animal (from wherever we can get them at bargain basement prices – cardboard boxes outside of grocery stores seem to always have a nice selection). My kids typically do pretty well for about a week, as far as feeding them and DESTROYING our bathroom in their futile attempts at bathing the critters. As far as “picking up their crap”? . . .We can count on our kids to handle this responsibility approximately (NONE) times.  Because when my kids are asked to perform “Dr. Doolittle Tasks. . . that’s EXACTLY what my kids DO. . . little. So the “honeymoon” is generally, short-lived.

I guess the relationship between our children and our pets, is A LOT like that between the “General Public” and the members of “Menudo” during the 80’s. By that, I mean just like the members of Menudo (when they reached a certain age and were deemed “uncute” or “weird looking”) they were cast aside and replaced by a younger, smaller and cuter Mexican child. So goes the life of a household pet in our. . . household. For example. . . you may be familiar with our chihuahua “MAYA”. (if not, that’s okay. . . you’re not missing much) We rescued her from the animal shelter a couple of years ago. When my wife and I brought her home, my kids were “Overjoyed”. They had never seen such a beautiful creature. My daughters’ plans soon started for regular dog-related “fashion shows” and numerous “dog-walking” excursions. . . none of this occurred. . . Fast forward two years. . . we’ve got a NEW baby chihuahua. We’ve had it for about 2 months now. We have YET to agree on a name. . . the puppy is starting off its life in “our family”, just like the rest of us did. . . very confused.
Maya has now been cast aside as an inferior animal. (though I still regularly offer her words of encouragement – like, “It will all be over soon” and “You had a good run there for a while”)

 Before I continue, I need to point something out to the members of the Latino Community. I am NOT drawing a parallel between people of Hispanic Heritage and animals. . . people can sometimes become hyper-sensitive or infer that I am making such comparisons, when that is NOT my intent. . . I am, instead, comparing “Chihuahuas” to the members of “MENUDO”. Now, if I may be allowed to continue. . .



Therefore, “Maya” has now become the “Ricky Martin” of our “familia”. . . But I doubt it likely that my 6 year old chihuahua will be enjoying the resurgence in her “career” that was enjoyed by Mr. Martin. Only to see her hit “She Bangs”, brutally and savagely attacked and repackaged by ONE – “Mr. William Hung”. . . the only thing Maya has in common with those two, is her obvious lack of any talent.

 . . . No, she will probably spend the rest of her life
“Living La Vida Heart Worm” in my yard. . . Growing old, fat and unwanted. . . actually she is a LOT like Ricky Martin. . . AND William Hung. . .


 As far as the “NEW” dog is concerned; I am growing a little leery of how he is being “broken in”. For starters, when it comes to how he “handles himself” in the house. . . he receives carte blanche. . . Whatever he feels is necessary to do at whatever time he thinks it needs to be done. . . GOES. In that respect, I understand how P Diddy lives. . . or at least his SON (Puffy probably has people picking up his kid’s poop too, but they are probably HAPPY about it) My “nameless” dog can Pee, Poop, Chew, etc. everywhere and anywhere that he wants and, at this point. . . it’s OKAY. Because he’s a BABY. . .

“No, No, he’s a DOG,” I’ll argue (to no one interested in listening to me) only to have my observation quickly dismissed as “DOGIST” (anti-dog)When in reality, I am “DOG CRAPIST” (anti-dog crap)


But the puppy is WISE beyond its puppy years. It likes to play a game. Not a puppy game. . . a deviously cunning game that could have only been thought of by a sly Fox-puppy hybrid. I have come up with a name for the game:

“I Crap Wherever I WANT To. . . LOOK at Me”


The rules are simple:

  1. It “goes” anywhere it wants (i.e. in my shoe)
  2. It lies in wait. . . until I’ve made the “discovery”
  3. It watches as I turn 6 shades of red
  4. It hides behind something (i.e. my wife or one of my daughters)
  5. It smiles at me (it can smile)
  6. It turns its head a quarter of an inch and looks at me as if to say, “You wouldn’t hurt me in front of all of these ‘witnesses’, would you?”
  7. It is lavished attention and love, while I go outside to regather my thoughts and find the garden hose

There are other versions and variations of the game:


“Yeah, I did that. . . What are YOU going to do,TOUGH GUY?”
and
“Hey! You Needed New Furniture Anyway”


After the “puppy” does something to our home, during one of these game-playing “Episodes”, more often than not, one of my girls will “Break the News”.


“Dad! . . . The puppy had an ‘accident’,” they will say, as the puppy starts to creep to “their” side of the room.


Let’s be honest. The puppy didn’t have an “accident”. “I” am convinced this was NO accident. I’m pretty sure that this was very intentional. The puppy also seems to be constantly “Geared Up” for something. It is Uber-Hyper. But WHAT is it so “Geared Up” FOR?. . . Not a whole lot going on at
“our house”.
. That’s also something I’ve noticed to a somewhat “lesser” degree from our older dog Maya. . . but I think “she” might just be “gearing up” to die. . . or escape. . . I think she and the cat are planning something, but I can’t be sure. In fairness, Maya isn’t exactly OLD. If I remember correctly, I think the ratio of “dog years” to “human years” is, like, 7 to one. . . the dog is actually about the same age as “ME”. . . which might explain a lot, now that I think about it.
The other day, while the puppy was inside eating our love seat, I went outside to “get some air”. I noticed that Maya was sitting by one of the numerous gopher holes in our “well-manicured” lawn. 
(I do all of the “groundskeeping” myself) The dog was just sitting there. . . content. . .  staring at a gopher hole. Rather than do anything about the gophers (I’m not allowed to kill them) OR fill the holes, “I” was content to sit in a chair and stare at the dog – sitting in the yard staring at the hole. . . for a VERY long time. . .


“Well, Maya. . . it will be over soon. . . We had a good run. . . “


‘Til Then. . . Go Figg’r!


Peace Out – Later


D A N

  
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