Before I start, let me just state for the record that I actually do adore my pets. Really, I do. They are part of my family and I am so glad that we adopted them (Humane Society fur babies for this family, all the way).
But there are times when the fur babies drive me just a little cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs. Take this instant. The cat is taking a few laps across my desk and laptop in her morning affection ritual. Oh, and the dog finally got done alternating between sniffing the cat’s butt and laying his 70 pound head on my forearm. Who knew that the pets would suffer from sibling rivalry so badly? The dog loves the cat. The cat tolerates the dog. But both get twitchy if the other is getting attention from me. Oh, and both have to be in the bathroom if I’m in there, pestering me to pet them. Talk about a captive audience.
But the worst part of being a pet owner to these particular little critters is that one is bulimic and the other is anorexic. I know, rather unlikely that one family would be struck by polar eating disorders, but sometimes strange things happen.
My cat is a puker. She often realizes that she can see some dish bottom between the kibbles in her bowl so then she scarfs up as much kibble as she can stuff into her little self. Inevitably this process makes her thirsty – all the hard work bingeing like that entails. About 3 minutes after her post-binge foray to the water bowl and I can hear her yacking up her food. It isn’t even slightly non-kibble shaped. Like, you could chew your food little missy! It wouldn’t bug me so much if she would recycle it, but no, she has standards.
Speaking of standards, my dog has them as well. He won’t eat her barely moistened cat kibbles either. Of course, he also won’t eat anything off the floor. Oh, periodically he’ll have a weak moment and eat a slice of fallen hot dog, but he refuses to eat stuff off the kitchen floor. Seeing as this was one of the primary reasons Mrs. Claus agreed to getting the mangy little mutt for Christmas a few years back, it would be nice if he’d act more dog-like and actually hoover-up the kid crumbs. But no. If you put a tater tot on a plate and put the plate on the floor, he’ll eat the tater tot. Roll the tater tot off your plate and table while expanding your tableware skills, oh hell no, that dog has higher standards than that.
For pete’s sake, these are animals who lick their own backsides. You’d think having spent time at the critter orphanage would have made them more appreciative for dining opportunities that present themselves, but no.
So while I love my little fur babies, there are times when I think rather mean thoughts. And by the looks of my kitty, that should be in about two minutes. I don’t know who needs a 12-step program more – them or me.