I’ll admit it I’m not the easiest person to live with. I’ve got plenty of friends and even a few fans, but when it comes to the home life, after two weddings, two divorces, and a plethora of relationships, I’ve decided I’m better off living with dogs.
Theo, the Great Pyrenees, is my buddy, but he also exhibits some of the ex-wives traits and characteristics. When he sees me tinkering around with power tools or heavy equipment he usually turns and walks away slowly shaking his head in a disapproving self-preservation manner.
Hudson the mix-breed refugee is younger and more adventurous. He usually moves off a safe distance and lays there with a “This oughta be good,” posture about him.
Like both of my ex-wives, every time I need to run to the store to grab a quick item or two, they both think they need to go along.
Fortunately, unlike both the ex-wives, they are always waiting patiently in the back of the truck, not spending 15 minutes “getting ready to go.” Plus I always had a problem with the ex thinking she was going to ride in the front of the truck.
Living with dogs is easier; they don’t care if I forget how long I’ve had them, or how old they are. They don’t care that I don’t know their brothers, cousins, or parent’s names or forget a birthday or anniversary. They don’t feel the need to tell me their old high school boyfriend owns property with oil on it.
They don’t care if I don’t ask how their day was, even though I usually do.
If I forget to buy dog food on the way home, Theo is disappointed, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He kicks over his nearly empty food dish, craps on the front lawn and we call it even.
He doesn’t bring it up again six months later when I do something else stupid, like forgetting to turn off his shock collar before backing out of the driveway.
When I come home each night, even if I’m several hours later than expected, both dogs are jumping and dancing around the yard waiting for me to pull in the drive and give them a pet.
When I was married neither of the exs ever met me in the yard after work, except maybe on paydays. As a general rule when I was married, if the “little woman” was jumping around in the front yard when I came home, especially if I was coming home a few hours later than expected, I just kept on going.
