Dog is Man’s Best Friend? This quote is the source of some arguing.
My husband, Mike, and I work from home, which give us a lot of quality time together.
A lot of quality time.
A whole lot of quality…
Not sure if Gordon sleeping on Mike’s face is a good sign or bad sign for if dog is man’s best friend.
OK, fine. We argue. Actually, we bicker. We bicker over trivial things because we can’t get out of each other’s way. For instance, he’d like to know why I have four glasses of water on my bedside table, filled to various depths. Do I think I’m going to wake up in the middle of the night desperate to play a few Christmas carols on a glass xylophone?
I want to know why he can’t finish everything on his plate. Why does he always leave 1/4 of a sandwich? Does he think he has to leave a little food on the plate so it can spawn the next meal? He knows that isn’t how food works, right?
But the thing we bicker the most about is our dog, Gordon the Labradoodle. Who loves him more?
Dog is man’s best friend? Not on my watch.
If Gordon coughs or licks or makes any sort of strange breathing noise in the middle of the night, we start a battle as to why.
“He’s going to throw up,” says Mike.
“No, that’s just his throat clearing noise,” I say. “He’s fine.” Granted, this may be more wishful thinking than science.
“Is there a towel nearby?” mumbles Mike, pretending he’s too asleep to find one himself. Daniel Day-Lewis should be glad Mike wasn’t nominated for the Oscar this year.
“Probably, but he’s fine.”
I try and go back to sleep, only to hear Gordon’s tell-tale *hoomph* *hoomph* *hoomph* barf noise begin at the foot of the bed.
“He’s throwing up! YES! I TOLD YOU!” Mike announces triumphantly as I lunge for a towel to catch the vomit before it hits the comforter.
“Mommy would never get that excited about you throwing up,” I whisper to the dog as I wipe off his mouth, proving to him I love him more.
If dog is man’s best friend, maybe his best friend could catch the vomit once in a while.
In the morning, tired and cranky, we bicker about why the dog is staring at us.
“He has to go out,” says Mike.
“He was just out,” I say. “He’s bored. He wants to play.”
“I don’t think he pooped,” says Mike. “He has to go out.”
If Mike and I were on Family Feud and the topic was “Things Amy and Mike Talk About” ….Survey SAYS!
As Mike grills me to remember the last time the dog went to the bathroom, Gordon trots off and returns with his favorite ball in his mouth.
“YES! In your face!” I’ll say, doing my most obnoxious victory dance. “He wants to play. I know my dog better than you.”
“Right,” Mike says, brushing off his defeat. “Not even close.”
When it comes to our furry baby, the one thing Mike and I agree upon is that we don’t know what we’ll do without him. Gordon’s eyes are starting to get that old-dog cloudiness. He’s eight now, and we’re starting to get more nervous every year.
“I don’t know what I’ll do when he dies,” says Mike as we share some wine on the sofa. “I’ll probably just die, too.”
“Me too,” I say, petting the furry old man on my lap. Gordon. Not Mike.
“You’ll be fine. I love him more than you,” says Mike. “It’s over for me when he goes.”
I snort in disagreement. “You do not love him more than me.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t.”
We look at Gordon with tearing eyes. We sigh. We stop bickering.
The dog gets uncomfortable with the melodramatic, wine-induced love-fest, gets up and stand by the door. He lets loose a huffy little bark.
“He has to poop,” says Mike, wiping his eyes with a strong, manly gesture.
“No, he wants to get the paper,” I say, because I know Gordon, and he loves me more.
Dog is Man’s Best Friend?
My ass.
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This post almost makes me want to get a dog. And a Mike to argue with. Almost.
Let me see how today goes… I might be able to get you Mike CHEAP!
I feel you Amy. We have four, the two oldest are my kids and they are 13 & 14. I can’t type it without getting tears in my eyes, I’ll be heartbroken without them.The younger two are possibly attached to my husband with an invisible cable.
my hubs and I do this exact same thing about our cat. 🙂
You’re so funny, Amy! We do this about our cats too. We just put the oldest down two months ago (he was 19!) because of kidney disease. The “who loves him more” thing became who loves him enough to end his suffering. It was hard core, but in the end, neither one of us could make the call and the cat had to tell us he was ready.
I still get the shudders thinking I waited too long with my last dog… that he was in pain… but I don’t know how the hell we’ll ever be able to take Gordon either. *sigh*
I couldn’t pay someone to take my diva Chihuahua–she’s the most miserable dog on the planet. She still pees and poops in the house on occasion, barks incessantly, chases poor, unsuspecting kids on bikes and skateboards, hates other dogs, eats crap she finds on the street and then hurls it up on my carpet, snaps at children who try to pet her, is so attached to me it’s like I have an extra limb, and yet…and yet…I’ll be devastated when she’s gone. Go figure.
Oh my goodness. You nailed it. Those are the three most popular topics of conversation in our house too. Are you me??? Our oldest dog, Charlie, is the light of our lives. At 10, he’s got a greying muzzle although he still frolics like a puppy. It breaks my heart to imagine living without him. Our second dog, Sophie, is a huge pain in the neck but she has also managed to become indispensable. Dogs! They’re the best!
Too funny! My husband and I have the same list of things we talk about on an endless loop. I mean EXACTLY the same things. It’s almost as if we’re twin couples. The dogs’ bowel movements are a constant source of discussion as well as what we’ll eat for dinner. Now that just sounds disgusting.
Well, with the barf thing, he’d get up and deal with it if man were dog’s best friend. But since it’s the other way around, dog just has to put up with man not caring for him during his episodes of reverse digestion.
Ah yes, who loves you more? I once fed my cat Foie gras in order to win her affection over my girlfriend. It worked too, the cat was far less eager when she tried to claw my eyes out as opposed to hers…
Sincerely, One-Eyed Magee
I don’t do cats. They always ask for belly rubs and then I do and then they lash out at me. What’s up with that? That’s just pure evil.
same scenario at our house. Buddy, our 7 year (wife, 3 daughters, girl cat) old 90 pound golden retriever, and I are the only boys in the house, so we stick together.I obsess over him and love on him too. every cough emans he has the cancer. Of course, this emans he loves me more. Which is all that’s important.
Emans – I started thinking your dog was an Arab! Sounds like an Arabic name, and then I realized the typo!
I loved the “catch the vomit” part. I am the vomit catcher, as my girlfriend can’t even look at vomit. She makes up for it with poo/pee cleanup. I’m constantly waking up or looking around going “where did they vomit?” if its outside of the room I’m in. I prefer this game to “find the poo” though. No one wins in that game.
This post pretty much sums up my life (except for the part about both of us working from home. Our marriage just wouldn’t survive that.)
We love our three dogs more than anything, and I FREAK out if even one little thing is strange…are they drinking enough water? Are they drinking too much water? Going poo enough? Pooing too much?
I’m obsessed and these dogs are my soul.
One of them, my little Bentley, is a yorkie who is 10 years old. I got him in law school and we’ve been through everything together. He’s my constant companion and he’s been through so many bad parts of my life that I can’t imagine my life without him.
He’s starting to get the foggy eyes too and it makes me cry sometimes just thinking about it.
I know how much you guys love your dogs because it’s how much we love ours.
My husband always says I love Bentley more than him. I always pause and then say “Well…..it’s just different.”
You know he loves that answer. 🙂
Any time our dogs need to be on medication my husband and I argue. If I don’t do it PRECISELY to the instructions on the bottle, he acts like I’m willfully injecting the animal with cyanide. “It says half a pill. Did you give it to him this morning? Did you cut it exactly in half? Are you sure he took it? Did you put it in peanut butter or mayo?” And so on.
My God you two remind me of us. We argue whether or not it’s an “asthma attack” our dog is having or if she’s going to vomit. I always win.