I have all sorts of messed up theories and ideas. They rarely jibe with those of other people, but I generally don’t care because I’m merely espousing them for my own amusement. Therefore, ideas and opinions suggested in this blog do not reflect those of my family. If they are mentioned, it’s merely because I opted to do it. They probably WANT to object vehemently. However, they’re not here so they can’t stop me. 🙂 So there!
As a family we’ve had a pretty wild menagerie of critters. This, despite age and education, has not ceased. For some reason, however, I’ve decided to personify my mom’s pets as likenesses of her family. First case in point… Lance.
Lance was easily the prissiest dog I’d ever met. Surely he was the prissiest dog we’d ever had. Like most (99%) of Mom’s pets, he seemed to be some sort of rescue. Mom’s a sucker for lost causes, underdogs, and the under-privileged. Perhaps she is a thwarted, frustrated closeted wanna-be nun. Anyway, she gets this schnauzer who was once a stud dog (SERIOUSLY? My first impression was that if dogs could be gay, he’d be the Elton John of the family home) who was neutered and placed, probably quite unceremoniously, with my mom. He also had been indoctrinated to be fearful of any kind of linoleum. Watching him eat was a trip because he’d get a mouthful of food, rush out of the kitchen, then eat in the dining room.
However, the more I got to know the little b*stard, the more he reminded me of my dad. Seriously, that dog hated us. [NOTE: My dad didn’t hate us at all. He just really hadn’t wanted to be a parent. He found us at best amusing, at worst, annoying. Lance had the same attitude.] Lance completely resented the time that Mom would take to be with us. We were a bother, a bore, and a drain on whatever plans he had. To make sure were KNEW of his displeasure, he’d actually stare at you if he felt you were in his chair. Yes, the dog had his own chair just like my dad did. If his chair was taken, he’d try to jump up onto the chair/couch you were planning on sitting before your butt actually hit the seat. He was not about to give you a place to sit. He hadn’t invited you over. He WAS NOT going to sit on your lap. God knows where it’s been… umh, hmm.
Furthermore, that dog liked to mess with you.
Upon returning from Australia, sunburned beyond belief, to -4 degree winter weather, that little f*cker decided to pee on every single blasted blade of grass buried deeply in the snow pack. Not only that, he decided he needed a LONG walk. Have you ever been sunburned in the winter? IT HURTS. LIKE HELL. I’d like to say that was the only time he did something heinous like that, but no. He’d take me for hour-long schleps on the hottest, most humid days of summer. It was his way of reminding me that they were very happy without me thankyouverymuch and his plans (of sleeping in his chair) were being infringed upon. Yes, I’m stupid because if it happened more than once, I must have let it.
I’d like to say that I remember when poor Lance passed on. However, he was so passive-aggressively mean to me that I’ve blocked it. I know my mom loved him. So for her, rest in peace you prissy little twit.