I wandered through my house this morning at the fine time of 7:30 completely unimpeded by gates or screens or panting, huffing, bodies because not only have my parents moved out, but they have taken their dog.
Some of you will remember that it’s no small thing that he’s their dog to begin with. There was a very real risk he would be our dog until we rehomed him. But, my mom surprised us with a sudden desire to rescue him (not only from his crazy self but from our home, which seems to have become unfit). That’s right, while it was perfectly alright last week, it is now an environment barely fit for a flea, let alone a dog. I mean, he’s crated while we’re at work and even though he seems to enjoy it, surely it’s not good for him.
This is not an argument for him to stay, just general commentary about our apparent and sudden unfitness as dog owners. On the other had you guys, how can I have a bad attitude when I HAVE MY HOUSE BACK?
Now, I’d like my body back, my sex life back, and a whole lot of cleanliness back. I’ll take that in any order, as soon as possible. You guys. MY HOUSE. It’s MINE.