Peeved Pet

So last Friday Wifey left for Brickell, to spend the night with D1 so they could get an early start Saturday at the Wynwood Seed Festival. This was an event apparently sponsored by Whole Foods (I love when people call the company "Whole Paycheck") where D1 bought a booth to hawk her new Nutrition consulting business. After a long and tiring day, Wifey was too tired to drive home, and so spent Saturday night there as well. This meant I was responsible for two dogs, the fragile Spaniel, and the strange rescue dog. The strange dog, usually happy, is, to Wifey's observation, depressed. She's been peeing and crapping in the house, Wifey thinks, because the hot weather has prevented us from taking her on walks. All I know is, sure enough, Saturday am I came into the kitchen and was smacked in the face, frying pan-like, by the stench of fresh dog dropping. There's nothing as nice as cleaning it up before you have your morning coffee. And again, in the afternoon, there was more for me, when I returned from the Miami Book Fair. It's wearing thin. I really like dogs, but I'm starting to get over them. The truth is, if I lived alone, I would be dog-less. It'd be plenty for me to visit dogs at the Ds' places, without the hassle of caring for them, anymore. Unfortunately for me, as long as I live with Wifey, there WILL be dogs. This is non-negotiable with her -- she LOVES them, and they make her very happy. So I shall doggedly move on. Pet ownership gets a bit creepy, in my view, when the love people direct towards them replaces normal human interaction. I have a friend from LI who never had kids, and his cats became replacement kids. He talks about the stupid cat stories as if it was his child getting into MIT. Wifey points out that shows he's a warm person, deep down, but just one who is emotionally stilted towards other humans (Yoomans, as Wifey calls them). I guess... All I know is, as I age, and have less patience for people, I have less for pets, too. It's a good thing Wifey forces me to keep dogs. I could easily see myself becoming the mean old man, standing on my porch, shooting BBs at kids who come onto my lawn to retrieve baseballs... The good news is that the weather turned a bit cooler, and I was able to walk the sausage dog. Sure enough, no crap on the floor yesterday, or this am. We're leaving for NYC Wednesday, and Mirta, my sister of another mother, is house and dog sitting. I hope she is able to enjoy a crap-free house as well.