Whining about the "dog"

It’s coming down to either me or the dog and I’m afraid the vote is going to turn against me. I’m having another brutal allergy reaction, leaving me in the rare condition of actually looking forward to going out of town on business. My head aches, my throat hurts, I can’t breathe, and I’ve got toxic drainage. Meanwhile, the dog lies like royalty on our new couch and looks at me with amused confidence and a bit of disdain.

I seem to be the only one in the family who realizes that our house now reeks of dog. The air is thick with dog. It’s in our furniture. It covers our walls, doors and floor with an invisible sheen of dog. It taunts me. I can’t enjoy sitting in my big, comfy recliner anymore. What was once my haven, my fortress of solitude, is now my Kryptonite. The dog is choking the life out of me; slowly…and with great, awful satisfaction.

Obviously, I’m over-reacting. That’s what I do. I make mountains out of dust specks. I’m not having a massive allergic reaction. I just have a cold. I don’t really smell “dog smell.” I don’t like the dog, so I’m imagining that I smell “dog smell.” It’s all in my head.

That’s good to know. A little therapy for me and I’ll feel much better. Maybe they can hypnotize me into not being allergic to the dog! Some nose plugs for the imaginary smell and it’s all good. It will be such a relief. The stigma of being a “dog hater” is almost too much to bear. Who doesn’t love a puppy dog? And our dog tips the scale on adorable. She’s the perfect dog. Only a true monster couldn’t love a dog like that.

So we alternately play the “guilt cards.” Mine is the relatively pathetic: “I’ll just deal with it. I’ll get used to this feeling. Keep the dog.” Theirs: “We’ll find her a good home. It will be hard because we love her so much, but if you can’t breathe….” I’m tossing water balloons while they are throwing hand grenades. I can’t be the reason my kids get rid of their dog.

I’d be more prone to selflessness and personal sacrifice if the kids (the ones who love the dog so darn much) loved it enough to be truly responsible owners. They love the dog if it’s doing what they want it to do. If they want to play and it plays, they are happy. If they want to cuddle on the couch and it cuddles, they are thrilled. They love having a dog for about two hours a day. The rest of the time, when they have other things to do, or just want to sit around and not be bothered, all they want is a stuffed animal. Not a pet that has to be walked and fed and bathed. Connie does most of the care giving for the dog. It is she who walks the dog 80% of the time. She makes sure it gets fed and watered. Not the kids. Honestly, I don’t know why she is so in favor of keeping the dog. It’s a lot of work, and frankly, putting up with me and the kids is a full time job.

It’s possible that a compromise can be reached by making her an “outside dog.” I’ll get my house back and the kids will still technically have a dog. I’m not sure how the queen of the universe will take to living outside. There are bugs and dirt and no air conditioning outside. I doubt we’ll move any furniture out there for her to lounge on. I do not think she’ll be happy. I think that very soon we’ll be the neighbors that everyone hates because we have the howling dog in our back yard. It’s a no win situation for us all.

On a positive note, there’s only one person to blame, and that would be me. I approved getting the dog in the first place. I went to help pick her out. I paid the bills. It was me that caused this problem, not Connie, not the kids and not the dog. Only a complete and total moron would bring a dog into his home when he knows that he has severe allergies. It’s kind of good to come to terms with that and for everyone to have a central focus point for their anger and frustration. I’ll be the family piñata, taking hits until I die because I was the one who gave and then ripped the family dog from their loving arms. I only hope that they use big sticks, start soon, and aim for the head. I could really use some relief.