Such a Ham

These are my stupid dogs, Jack and Tatum. They don’t strike cute poses with random objects balanced on their heads like you see on Dooce. They don’t know any cool tricks. They’re just furry oafs with room-clearing farts. Don’t judge me for saying that until you’ve had to clean their pee and puke out of the carpet or pick up the garbage they scattered around the house while you were running an errand. Don’t even get me started on what they’ve done with dirty diapers. YUCK. I’d overlook all of that if they vacuumed up the ten pounds of hair they shed everyday.

I’ve said before that I’d like to be a dog person but I’m not. Cats are better pets. Not better as in smarter, friendlier, or more loyal. Better as in independent, less work. So, I guess when I say better I mean low maintenance. For me, even fish are too much trouble with their stinky tank water you have to carefully change so they don’t die of shock in their new environment. But a cat! Pour food and water in some bowls. Dump out their litter box. Simple. Except for the puking up of hairballs.

Normally, Jack and Tatum are tolerable, even appreciated when I’m home alone. There is no one getting close to my door without them letting everyone within two miles know about it. But one thing about them that drives me crazy is the begging for food. It’s too hot in Phoenix to just shut them outside whenever anyone is eating so I listen to the whimpering, the crying. Sometimes they drool on me when I eat a hot dog. When I cook they’re underfoot in the kitchen salivating but they clean up after me better than a mop. Any dropped scrap of food is gobbled up before it even hits the floor. That’s another thing – cats know how to savor a treat. Half the time my dogs don’t chew.

Hudson has decided feeding the dogs is fun. He doesn’t have to eat bread crusts or eggs. They’re his personal garbage disposal. Now Jack and Tatum are so used to getting treats they don’t have the patience to wait for scraps to fall off the kitchen counter or be fed to them. Anything left unguarded is fair game. By unguarded I mean you better be actively eating with a fork and knife. When you pick up a taco or start tearing bread with your hands they think they’re about to get lucky. And if you’re going to walk out of the room you might as well put your food in their bowl.

Yesterday they stole Hudson’s lunch and I actually have to give my dogs a pass on this one. He had literally clothed himself in meat like he was Lady Gaga or something. He was eating a ham sandwich when he got bored with it so he took it apart. Then he thought laying down and covering his legs in ham slices was a good idea. (Hamstrings. Get it?) I figure Jack and Tatum were tempted beyond their ability to withstand. I’ll give them that but I’m still angry about the blocks they chewed up.

All the dog lovers out there will tell me I just need to train them better. Agreed. And I have to make sure Hudson only eats at the table. But first I have to get him to poop in the toilet. That’s priority numero uno.

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