My Wife is a Dog Hypocrite

When we first moved out to California last June, one of the things we were most looking forward to (beside the sunshine, free flowing wine and non-assholic people) was the ability to finally get a dog.

Our old shoebox apartment in Brooklyn was so small that having a pet of any kind bordered on animal cruelty – though that didn’t stop the mice and cockroaches from making a few guest appearances. It also didn’t help that our NY landlord had evicted a previous tenant for having a dog, so the idea of finally having a place where we could own a dog was certainly appealing.

When we were in NY, we would brainstorm names for our hypothetical dog that we would someday bring home as we walked to and from our apartment – Turkey, Sushi, Baron Barker Von Wolfenshtein. After we finally got settled in California, we searched for nearly two months, going to Humane Society Shelters every weekend and checking rescue organization’s websites to find our perfect dog. When we finally found Layla through the Grateful Dogs Rescue Org, Cady had already established a few ground rules which – under penalty of death – would never EVER be broken. Among these were:

Rule #1. No dog sleeping in the bed.

Rule #2. No feeding her people food. Dog food only.

Rule #3. No dog on the couch.

Rule #4. No dog left out in the apartment.

Now before I give you any clues, can you guess which of these rules have since been broken? And just to be clear, I don’t mean by me.

Do you have a number in mind? Good.

If you guessed ALL of them, then you’d be correct. Layla has officially taken over our lives. She broke down the hard and fast rules put in place by Cady faster than Kirstie Alley opening a box of mini-donuts. So how, exactly has my dear wife broken the rules she adamantly defended prior to the pup? Well, I’m glad you asked.

Broken Rule #1 -Every night I have to fight the dog for space on the bed. She growls at me if I try to lift her from her spot – which incidentally, is actually my spot. Of course, Layla never sleeps on Cady’s side of the bed, just mine. And in the mornings, I’m inevitably awoken by Layla’s rank dog breath and tickling whiskers two inches from my face. She has a habit where she will watch me sleep, unblinking, and the instant I shift around or open an eye, she starts licking my face or literally stands on my throat. If I try to fake like I’m still sleeping, she’ll stand right by my pillow and stamps her feet until I wake up. She’s very persuasive that way.

Broken Rule #2 – I have caught Cady “accidentally” dropping pieces of cheese in the kitchen. Do you know what cheese is for a dog? Instant diarrhea, that’s what.

Broken Rule #3 – Layla practically lives on the couch. She’s even managed to figure out how to sit on the back of the couch like a cat and stare at birds on the branches outside. It’s a little creepy.

Broken Rule #4 – Typically we try not to leave Layla in her crate for long stretches of time. It’s just not cool. We’ve left her out a few times and we’ve discovered something fun – she loves to eat paper. Ever wondered what is the best way to shred toilet paper into tiny slobbery clumps? Give it to my dog. Ever had a comic book that you didn’t know how to dispose of? Give it to my dog. She’ll eat the whole damn thing.

Moral of the story is that having a dog is like having a child – you start off with all these rules and ideals but you end up just losing sleep and picking up their poop. At the end of the day though, you wouldn’t want to come home to anyone else.

It's quite obvious who rules this household (hint: it's not me).

Advertisement