Wednesday, January 02, 2008

And I Don't Feel Any Different...

Welcome, 2008! I hope that somewhere in your pockets, you have suitable employment for me, something that doesn't involve a cash register, a nametag, or handling anything that people eat. I still haven't heard whether I got the dream job, so in the meantime, I'm thinking of opening that Lasik clinic in my guest room. It can't be any sketchier than the one beside Orange Julius at the mall.

Anyway, I hope to start operating on eyes soon, because I now have another mouth to feed. No, I haven't grown a conjoined twin, although that would be cool if only because I'd always have someone to play ping pong with, especially if my twin was Asian.

The truth is that I am now a single mother.

It's obviously not what you're thinking, especially since I couldn't lure a man to my bed without the use of night goggles, a pickaxe, and a large burlap sack. No, my son is a bouncing baby Boxer. I named him Pigpen (in honor of the late Ron "Pigpen" McKernan), which was going to be what I was calling my first child, regardless of how many legs it had. (For the record, Pigpen has all four).

Getting a puppy probably wasn't the best idea since I have no source of income, but I am willing to cut my remaining few of my little extravagances for him... I can say goodbye to pedicures for a while, which is fine since I bought some nail clippers at PetSmart yesterday. Also, his food is surprisingly good.

He hasn't barked excessively, he's not a chewer, but he has gone all R. Kelly on the one rug I own. The score so far? Pigpen: 6, Rug: 0. He also destroyed the guest bathroom at my parents' house leaving it looking like Red Dawn, if the Russians had been made of dog shit.

I had no idea that motherhood sometimes required you to Saran-Wrap your feet.

Those incidents were right at the beginning though; Pigpen is on his third straight accident-free day, which already puts him ahead of Blackwater. He has a favorite pee place (the elevator) but chooses to, um, take the Browns to the SuperBowl on the corner of the main street, in full view of the bankers walking to work. There I was this morning, wrapped up like Bill Belichick in my hoodie and headband, holding his leash and waving at them with one Snausage-scented hand. From the lack of responses, there apparently isn't anything sexy about seeing a woman scoop a still-steaming pile into a plastic baggie.

Sigh. If only they knew I was also an eye doctor...

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I, too, recently added a puppy to the house and the financial sacrifice is great. I've found that a few sliced "pupparonis" on an english muffin make for a delicious and nutrious snack you can share with your dog (or kids--depending on who's hungrier)-keb

J-Money said...

Oh wow, Anon... you can afford english muffins?

What kind of pup did you get?

Anonymous said...

I have a pug puppy. Which I am finding out is a lot like joining a cult. Pug people have secret handshakes and will send you things like viral videos of pugs in costumes, pugs reacting to the 2 girls, 1 cup video and pugs reading the declaration of independence with phony British accents.
-keb

Scooter said...

He's very cute. Are you going to add him to the profile picture of you and your stuffed animal friends celebrating?

If you get lucky, maybe your dog will start eating his own poop like mine has. That can cut down on the food costs.