I love these dogs. You know how some people are nuts about their pets? I mean really, really crazy? Yeah, that's me. I love these girls like they were actual people. And funnily enough, one of them really doesn't know she's a dog, so it works out.
Today's blog was inspired by my three hour visit to the veterinarian. I noticed while sitting there, playing solitaire on my ipod, that nearly everyone in the waiting room either looked like or had characteristics similar to their dog. It was funny. I'm not going to lie, I giggled to myself several times.
There was the overweight, asthmatic man whose pudgy Welsh Corgi breathed so loudly that it was a toss up who was going to need the inhaler; he was even wearing the same color tan shirt as his dog's coat. There was an ex-military guy with a German Shepherd, both of whom looked fierce. There was the pierced and tattooed thug-like twenty-something with a pit bull who looked like it had been in his fair share of scuffles. Both were totally mild mannered, though; the man even struck up a conversation about the Royal Wedding (not to me), so I'm not sure what was going on there. Mixed signals. There was the slightly manic, permed, chatty, fifty-something woman who had the same hairdo as her yippy standard poodle (those dogs creep me out for some reason) and there was the woman with some mixed breed who spent two hours on talking loudly on the phone while her dog made our ears bleed with barking. Rude, the both of them. (There were also a couple of Lhasa Apsos who both had a Napoleon complex and kept pushing Katie until I was absolutely sure one of them was going to be her mid-morning snack. I wonder if their owners provoke other people to the point of growling? It'd be interesting to know.)
Anyhow, I was pretty smug, sitting there, assured of the fact that I don't look like Katie, whose prognosis, incidentally, was that she's old. Then... I thought about it some more.
Kate's getting older. In today's visit, we learned she has arthritis in her hips. I have a little hitch in my giddyup when I rise from a sitting position, too, quite frankly. She's going grey, and but for the well placed visit to the hair salon, so am I. She's inherently lazy, much like myself. And Katie is spoiled rotten. *cough* Me, too. Lastly, Katie - or her royal highness, as she really prefers to be addressed- doesn't like other dogs.
I love other dogs, but other people? I won't lie. A great deal of the time, they annoy the crap out of me. Katie will let any person pet her (within reason), but other dogs? No, sir. Away from her, peasants. Sniff her not. She isn't having it.
Even poor Abs, who lives with her, gets treated as if she doesn't exist. Completely ignored.
...And I 'nothing' people. Most especially the ones that wear me out.
So. It appears that I have nothing to be smug about. I'm exactly like my dog: old, cranky, lazy, misanthropic and spoiled.
And my solitaire score was two and thirty five.
Buy hey, at least I'm in good company.