My Ex-Best Friend

Sunday I came home to a broken lamp; now this may seem insignificant to you. A lamp is just an object, well, yes, indeed it is. But this wasn’t just any lamp! It was one that I’ve had for years that my grandma got for me. It perfectly matched my room, it was unique and old, and I loved it. Maybe that is where my first mistake was, don’t ever get too attached to things. But the question arose, who had broken it? There was just one culprit who I could think of, he was looking at me with his fluffy face, ears sticking out waiting for some sort of praise, his little eyes looking right at mine. Yes, this was the man, well…er…dog.

If you are not a dog lover you should probably not continuing reading this post, and if you are a defensively passionate dog lover, you probably should not read this post. Now for the small percent of us who happen to love the dogs who have wandered into our lives, you can read on.

Now I had mentioned people who love their dogs, I think that that statement just might be past tense for me. Last night was the most trying experience of my love, and I think that I failed it….miserably. Now all of you who own dogs I’m sure have experienced owning a sick dog. Well, mine, like all others, does occasionally become sick. And for some reason in my room in the middle of the night seems to be the premium time to become sick. Last night was no exception. I woke up around midnight to a dog who apparently was sick, maybe he ate the wrong thing, who knows?! Anyways, that is not a pleasant thing to wake up to when you were previously sound asleep, enjoying it too. Well, there wasn’t much that I could do at that time of the day, or there wasn’t much that I felt motivated to do. All I can say is that by 2:30 I became motivated and fast. I looked over, aware that something was not right, and happening in my bedroom!? I don’t think that I have ever jumped out of my bed so fast, there was my “cute” little dog not just throwing up on my rug but doing worse! He was surrounded by landmines and looking at me with the most guilty look, a helpless one, but I was still hopping mad! Now if my lamp was not broken by the foresaid culprit, I would have turned it on, but no, I had to jump around my room, with my only light the screen on my cell phone, trying to avoid stepping in the unmentionable. I bounded down the stairs in my pajamas, hoping that I wouldn’t wake anyone up, but pounding loudly just in case I did and could solicit some help or at least some sympathy! I dragged out the cleaner and grabbed a pile of paper towel. I shoved the dog into the laundry room and felt a twinge...yes a very small one, of guilt and went back and sympathetically gave him something soft to lay on. Then began the climb, I trudged back up the stairs, dragging my feet as if I were summiting one of the many famous peaks and it was killing me. I am not usually a very squeamish person, I do fine with blood, spiders, and snakes (unless in monstrous proportions). But this? Nooo, I couldn’t do it. But I had too. As tears streamed down my face, and my stomach decided it wanted to travel to foreign countries I began to clean. I sniffled and I groaned and even complained a little out loud I think. But I did it….there I was feeling immensely sorry for myself, with my big bedroom light blaring down at me in the middle of the night. So for all of you who are not dog people, and still read this post, I’m am now giving you your fair warning, don’t been fooled by the cute face, there are low points to dog ownership.