So...
My girlfriend takes "umbrage" at my assertion that my last dog was the best companion ever. Sorry, but as much as I enjoy her company and the things that we do together (no more detail on that will be listed here), I must stand by my assertion.
My girl will counter with "Did she cook for you?" "Did she... more adult stuff here...?" "Did she buy you strawberries and whipped cream?" To which my answer would be No. However, for the years I didn't have a girlfriend, Lucy was the one who would always keep me company, completely loyal and utterly without judgement. I believe that dogs are incredibly empathic. She knew when I was down and was always there. She was the epitome of "Man's Best Friend."
Now before I get the onslaught of comments berating me for picking my dog over my girlfriend, let's be clear on a few things:
- The dog had 13 years at my side -- Girlfriend has had only 2 months and counting.
- I never was in a position where I had to choose one over the other, but should that have happened, all extenuating circumstances would have been carefully thought out before a decision would have been made.
- It is possible to sway said decision with the right combination of food and sexual favors -- though not necessarily at the same time -- I don't have that many towels.
In other news, I just finished my first rehearsal for "Oklahoma!" I actually think I am going to enjoy this quite a bit.
In other news, I still have some issues with my boss that need resolving. I will keep you all posted.
posted by Roger C. @ 8/10/2006 09:15:00 PM
15 Comments:
small correction, my sweet - lucy was your best companion. i would have been, too, had i known you back then... but alas, i'll let you revel in your sweet memories of her loyal love and faithfulness...for she was there for you when i could not be.
to clarify....i took umbrage at your statement (last paragraph) that you would train your next puppy to be your "best companion ever"...apparently, while you were lost in the sweet mists of your memories of lucy, you forgot that you presently have a girlfriend, right now, one who is busy batting her eyelashes at you and balancing bowls of strawberries and whipped cream over huge stacks of towels...
woops. you didn't say "best companion ever" in the last paragraph, you said "best companion possible".
well, now that i think about it, it sorta means the same thing! so excuse me while i prepare to pout and storm off (in my high-heeled slippers with the little poufy things on the tops..... )
p.s. yet again....my dear, my darling, although we have had two (glorious) months together...you neglected to mention - (it was an oversight, i'm sure of it my honeypumpkin) - that these have been absolutely the most magnificent and extraordinary two months of your life! i shall forgive your oversight, my flame, for you are my splendid heart's desire... but you really should start peeling my grapes now...
Of course this means any sort of recanting on my part would be completely unacceptable, as that would play strongly into any misconception that I am... well... whipped.
So with a straightening of the back and setting of the jaw I maintain the conviction of my position -- though it again should be noted point 3 is not without merit.
hmmmmpphh! wrong answer! i shall now amuse myself with toys that require lots of batteries..so let it be written, so let it be done...
I guess I'm glad I didn't throw away my subscription to Maxim.
oh, poopykins...this false bravado on your part isn't fooling anyone, especially me...i know that when i toss a well-timed (and well-deserved) "hmmpph" in your general direction, the effect on you is simply devastating..i also know that you were so withered by the mere thought that you may have caused me even a moment of displeasure last night that you only pretended to eat and sleep like a baby, just to keep up appearances...whipped, indeed....setting of the jaw indeed....oh, darling, why do you insist on torturing yourself so...?
i await your grovelled contrition with open arms, my precious lamb of love....and out of the goodness of my heart and the greatness of my nature, my sweet baboo, i have placed a fluffy pillow upon the floor beside me, so that when you prostrate yourself in penitance before me, you'll be quite comfortable...(sigh)...because that's the kind of girlfriend i am...
p.s..(doing a happy snoopy dance before a huge bonfire made up entirely of your library of maxim magazines)
Let me make this easy for you: Just say the word and the iPod is yours.
oh, LOL!
LOL!!!!! "She drove me to it..."
Thanks for the offer, but she can burn all the Maxims she wants, I hid the Playboys.
you silly goose, you can laugh all you want, but i and i alone know of the hell you are going through...and no matter how much you try to hide your pain behind a life of mindless debauchery, you can't run away from it, my darling...oh, when will you wake up??
UMMMM OK
Sick now... going to Latrine...
Girlfrieds can come and go. You are personally responsible for the care and welfare of your dog for the dog's life. So, the dog is more important than the girlfriend.
A WIFE, however, is supposed to trump the world. In the "your wife and your child fall in the water and you can only save ONE of them" scenario, You are supposed to let your child die to save your wife. (The rationale, I guess, is that the two of you can have another child later.) Your wife is the #1 love of your life.
Perhaps this is why the divorce rate is so high... not enough of us take the time to discover if our significant other really IS our #1 ever before getting hitched.
Anyway, to sum up, your dog trumps your girlfriend but your wife is the high card in any game.
And having two puppies alone all day is only marginally better than one. Two little kids left alone are not less scared or in need of an adult's presence than one.
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If you want a pet you can spend time with when your schedule permits, get a fish. Get a flea. Get a pet rock. Don't get a dog or cat unless you are prepared to make that animal a top priority in your life for the next 15 years. And don't let anyone talk you into getting one unless he or she is willing to assume responsiblity for that animal, too, for 15 years.
There has got to be a word for the odd combination of wisdom and downright lunacy which comprises your post. Really. If there's a word for the little plastic things on the ends of your shoelaces, there's got to be a word for this.
I got it: psychosis.
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