In which Wally gets on my last nerve…
I just read this post by Miss Doxie, where she discusses the sudden loss of Tasha, one of her four dogs:
On the night Tasha died, my family went into full-on-crisis mode; mom and dad went to the store and purchased me ice cream, potato chips, frozen pizzas, and five bottles of wine. I also sent Dukay shopping, with explicit instructions to bring back every single dog treat and bone available in the metro area. Which he did, and the remaining three dogs have lived in an orgasmic, bone-chewing land since Saturday. And their enviable position has become even more enviable when you also take into account the new dog bed I have purchased them, as well as the new faux-fur blanket they have received in order to maximize their snoogly comfort on the sofa. The remaining dogs cannot believe their good luck. They love this whole mourning/death thing! Someone should die DAILY! And if the treats start to subside, they'll just shoot Pugsley, and then helloooooo, bacon!
My heart goes out to Miss Doxie. Her situation makes me want to value the time I have with my pets. So I’ve been trying to give extra love to Gus and Wally.
Giving Gus extra love is no problem. But loving Wally is a whole other story.
Here is just a small sampling of the decidedly unlovable things Wally has done in the past few days:
Look, I know that Walter is not a good dog and I have made my peace with that. Really, I have. I just sometimes wish he wasn’t such a very bad dog.
It’s not a good sign when you find yourself Googling “the Serenity prayer” and repeating the AA mantra “one day at a time” all to deal with this: