As I may have mentioned, I have a roommate named "Michelle". She happens to be someone who I've known for a long time, ever since we were dorky 6th graders. We went to college together, though admittedly we weren't the bosom friends that we are today when we started there. However, through an exciting turn of events that I don't feel like getting into right now, we became roommates sophomore year and have basically lived together ever since.
The beauty of living with someone for almost six years (holy crapoly!) is that you really get to know that person. You know their likes and dislikes, you can read their moods, you know when they need some space or a shoulder to cry on, you know when they're gassy; you have that innate roommate instinct. You also get to the point when you make decisions as a team. Some decisions are great, like the time we decided to throw a holiday party and a local sports celebrity showed up and now we can brag about it all the time to our friends who pretend like they don't give a crap but really they're just jealous (smug bastards). On the other hand some decisions aren't so great- like the time we clogged the toilet and, not having a plunger, decided it would be ok to leave if for the weekend as we went out of town for our friends' wedding.
One decision that we have not been able come to an agreement on is pet ownership. Actually, I guess I can't say all pet ownership because we were the proud parents of Chompers the goldfish until he (she?) died in September of 2006. I remember the funeral now... me holding Chompers in his net over the toilet holding back tears and trying to get Michelle to sing "Amazing Grace" with me, Michelle yelling at me to "flush the damn thing down the toilet and move on with your life"; just beautiful really.
Anyways, back to owning a real pet. More specifically owning a dog. Michelle and I both grew up in households that had dogs. Mine has been dead for a long time but her family dog, Sandy, is still alive and kicking it. So, in an effort to determine if we are really ready to take the plunge and have an animal live with us (but mostly to remind us why we shouldn't) we have agreed to provide a home for Miss Sandy when Michelle's family is out of town. Also, Michelle has no choice in the matter so that plays a part in our decision as well I guess.
We had Sandy this past weekend. She is a full sized golden retriever. We live in a two bedroom apartment. Let the fun begin.
Sandy has stayed with us before so we have some experience in this area. We know to expect her to bark when she hears the dog upstairs running around. We know there will be blond fur all over the apartment when she leaves. We know that we have to stash all of our trash cans because she'll eat, well, anything. We know we need to push our dining room table against the wall so that she can't tip it over. We know the drill. (I'm saying we here a lot but you know I really mean just Michelle, right?) During her most recent stay Michelle brought over Sandy's crate so we could put her in there at night and when we left the house to lessen the damage to our rented abode.
OK, at this point I think I've set the stage enough- on with the reasons we can't have a dog.
1. I hate to draw a comparison to this show because, ew, but watching Michelle and then me and Michelle assemble Sandy's crate on Friday night was like watching Jessica Simpson try to cook/camp/golf/chew gum & walk at the same time/breathe on The Newlyweds- pretty pathetic and all around comical. Nick Lachey should have been standing there watching us with an incredulous smirk on his face, making snide remarks the whole time to his brother Drew. Of course when we put her in there at bed time that night it took her all of 4 seconds to break out and start walking around the house. Dog - 1, Tess & Michelle - 0.
2. In case you're not familiar with having a dog, it's a real commitment. You have to feed and water the thing, take it out whenever it has to pee/poo, pet it and shit. It's a real time commitment indeed. And for two good for nothing 25 year olds who would prefer to run off and do whatever the hell they feel like, whenever the hell they feel like it, a dog throws one hell of a wrench into the works. You might feel like laying in bed until noon but you're going to have to drag your ass out of bed to let that dog out unless you want a little puddle on the ground. (You know I'm totally talking about Michelle getting up to let the dog out, right? I can't stress enough how little help I am in this situation. However, when I'm lying in bed and I hear Michelle have to get up to let that dog out I can only imagine what a drag that would be.)
3. We have started to appreciate that if you are going to have a dog you actually have to be tidier than if you don't have one. Reason being, those animals will put anything in their mouth and try to eat it. My dog's favorite treat was used cupcake wrappers. Sandy has probably ingested hundreds of dollars worth of cash money, both bills and coins, in her lifetime. Michelle told me she'll even eat her own vomit. At this point we know to close all doors and to stash all trash cans. But what about when you've been out drinkin' since 4:00 PM when the OSU game started and you come home at 2:00 AM shit canned? Can you really be held accountable for the crap that ends up on the floor? Say you've got some jackass with a broom lip-syncing to 80's music and dancing around your family room; that's going to kick up some debris. Somehow we managed to get carry out beer home from the bar. And somehow a bottle cap got dropped (thrown) on the ground. And Sandy somehow managed to vacuum it right up in her mouth and eat it. Were we in any condition to be tending to this dog? We've got Michelle near tears trying to wrestle the cap out of Sandy's mouth. We've got her boyfriend Joe trying to find helpful information on Google by typing in things like "Dog Eats Metal" and "Sandy Dog ate a cap". And finally we've got the aforementioned jackass, Joe's cousin Pat, singing 80's hits into a broom while I sit on the couch and laugh. What a team.
Now before you call the APL, I'm happy to report that the dog is fine. But if any lesson can be taken from this I think it would be that you should never let me watch your dog. That goes doubly for your children.
The beauty of living with someone for almost six years (holy crapoly!) is that you really get to know that person. You know their likes and dislikes, you can read their moods, you know when they need some space or a shoulder to cry on, you know when they're gassy; you have that innate roommate instinct. You also get to the point when you make decisions as a team. Some decisions are great, like the time we decided to throw a holiday party and a local sports celebrity showed up and now we can brag about it all the time to our friends who pretend like they don't give a crap but really they're just jealous (smug bastards). On the other hand some decisions aren't so great- like the time we clogged the toilet and, not having a plunger, decided it would be ok to leave if for the weekend as we went out of town for our friends' wedding.
One decision that we have not been able come to an agreement on is pet ownership. Actually, I guess I can't say all pet ownership because we were the proud parents of Chompers the goldfish until he (she?) died in September of 2006. I remember the funeral now... me holding Chompers in his net over the toilet holding back tears and trying to get Michelle to sing "Amazing Grace" with me, Michelle yelling at me to "flush the damn thing down the toilet and move on with your life"; just beautiful really.
Anyways, back to owning a real pet. More specifically owning a dog. Michelle and I both grew up in households that had dogs. Mine has been dead for a long time but her family dog, Sandy, is still alive and kicking it. So, in an effort to determine if we are really ready to take the plunge and have an animal live with us (but mostly to remind us why we shouldn't) we have agreed to provide a home for Miss Sandy when Michelle's family is out of town. Also, Michelle has no choice in the matter so that plays a part in our decision as well I guess.
We had Sandy this past weekend. She is a full sized golden retriever. We live in a two bedroom apartment. Let the fun begin.
Sandy has stayed with us before so we have some experience in this area. We know to expect her to bark when she hears the dog upstairs running around. We know there will be blond fur all over the apartment when she leaves. We know that we have to stash all of our trash cans because she'll eat, well, anything. We know we need to push our dining room table against the wall so that she can't tip it over. We know the drill. (I'm saying we here a lot but you know I really mean just Michelle, right?) During her most recent stay Michelle brought over Sandy's crate so we could put her in there at night and when we left the house to lessen the damage to our rented abode.
OK, at this point I think I've set the stage enough- on with the reasons we can't have a dog.
1. I hate to draw a comparison to this show because, ew, but watching Michelle and then me and Michelle assemble Sandy's crate on Friday night was like watching Jessica Simpson try to cook/camp/golf/chew gum & walk at the same time/breathe on The Newlyweds- pretty pathetic and all around comical. Nick Lachey should have been standing there watching us with an incredulous smirk on his face, making snide remarks the whole time to his brother Drew. Of course when we put her in there at bed time that night it took her all of 4 seconds to break out and start walking around the house. Dog - 1, Tess & Michelle - 0.
2. In case you're not familiar with having a dog, it's a real commitment. You have to feed and water the thing, take it out whenever it has to pee/poo, pet it and shit. It's a real time commitment indeed. And for two good for nothing 25 year olds who would prefer to run off and do whatever the hell they feel like, whenever the hell they feel like it, a dog throws one hell of a wrench into the works. You might feel like laying in bed until noon but you're going to have to drag your ass out of bed to let that dog out unless you want a little puddle on the ground. (You know I'm totally talking about Michelle getting up to let the dog out, right? I can't stress enough how little help I am in this situation. However, when I'm lying in bed and I hear Michelle have to get up to let that dog out I can only imagine what a drag that would be.)
3. We have started to appreciate that if you are going to have a dog you actually have to be tidier than if you don't have one. Reason being, those animals will put anything in their mouth and try to eat it. My dog's favorite treat was used cupcake wrappers. Sandy has probably ingested hundreds of dollars worth of cash money, both bills and coins, in her lifetime. Michelle told me she'll even eat her own vomit. At this point we know to close all doors and to stash all trash cans. But what about when you've been out drinkin' since 4:00 PM when the OSU game started and you come home at 2:00 AM shit canned? Can you really be held accountable for the crap that ends up on the floor? Say you've got some jackass with a broom lip-syncing to 80's music and dancing around your family room; that's going to kick up some debris. Somehow we managed to get carry out beer home from the bar. And somehow a bottle cap got dropped (thrown) on the ground. And Sandy somehow managed to vacuum it right up in her mouth and eat it. Were we in any condition to be tending to this dog? We've got Michelle near tears trying to wrestle the cap out of Sandy's mouth. We've got her boyfriend Joe trying to find helpful information on Google by typing in things like "Dog Eats Metal" and "Sandy Dog ate a cap". And finally we've got the aforementioned jackass, Joe's cousin Pat, singing 80's hits into a broom while I sit on the couch and laugh. What a team.
Now before you call the APL, I'm happy to report that the dog is fine. But if any lesson can be taken from this I think it would be that you should never let me watch your dog. That goes doubly for your children.
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