Mom’s outside doing some yard work, so I’m taking the opportunity to write another blog post for her. I’ve written a few already, and they’ve been very well received, if I do say so myself. Still, it’s been a long time since she’s invited me to write a guest post. I’d like to think that’s just because Mom is a bit forgetful, and not because she’s getting a little jealous that maybe my blog posts are a tiny bit better than hers. But for whatever the reason, I got tired of waiting for an invitation and since Mom’s not exactly a fast worker, so I’ve got plenty of time to do it now.
Unless, of course, she happens to discover some of the “treasure” I’ve buried in the back yard, in which case I can think of one or two items that will probably bring her storming back into the house, looking for yours truly. I’m not quite sure why she gets so upset why I sneak off with some of her granddaughter’s baby toys, because face it: dog chew toys and baby chew toys look exactly the same and I can’t resist any of them. That’s why I like to hide a few in the back yard, to play with when I’m outside. But last week she was searching everywhere for the baby’s favorite teething toy, and then she began throwing suspicious glances my way. Suffice it to say, if she unearths a certain rubber giraffe, I’m got some explaining to do.
Which brings me to the point of this post. As much as I like living with my human family, (and I really do love them), I can’t help but notice that there’s a certain unfairness in the way the different members of the family are treated. Just because I happen to have fur and walk around on four legs, I often have to abide by a totally different set of rules. Take the aforementioned toys, for instance. I’m perfectly willing to share my toys with babies and children, and believe me, when the adults aren’t looking, they play with my toys. But if I dare to pick up one of their toys, I’m immediately told to “drop it,” as if I’ve done something horrible. And they insist on washing the toys before they return them to the child or baby in question, which is just plain insulting.
Also, the humans in my family never have to “relieve themselves” outside. But I’m expected to do my business outside all the time, in all kinds of weather. Once when it had been storming all day, I really had to go. But I knew if I let my parents know that, they’d put me out in the yard. So I went downstairs and took care of my problem there. Just so you know: no matter how badly you have to go, never, ever, pee on the leg of your dad’s pool table. You wouldn’t believe how upset he’ll get, even though a pool table leg does look an awful lot like a tree trunk.
You see what I mean about unfairness? It can be a tough pill to swallow sometimes, but luckily, we dogs are nothing if not forgiving. And steady meals, a warm bed, and plentiful dog treats make up for a lot. But mostly, I know they love me and I love them, and that’s all that really counts anyway.