But, you know men. They’re slow learners, god love ‘em and some of them, mine in particular, take great pleasure in spoiling the women they love. So, being wise, we women learn how to use that to our advantage. Me?

Oh, honey, I’m a master.

I’m a dog girl. It started when I was a child and we had a chocolate lab named Thor. Thor and I were buddies, especially during tornado warnings. We’d go down to the basement together, that being his nighttime home anyway, and he’d sprawl out on the floor and lay still and peaceful as I rested my head on his belly, finding peace as the winds of a tornado…or 7 year old life…swirled overhead. We couldn’t keep him as long as I’d hoped for various reasons that went over my 7 year old head, but I never stopped wanting a big dog.

We bought our first home, bought our first chocolate lab and thought it was set. It wasn’t. Bailey was, in a word, a nightmare. Attempt number two went better. Only, he wasn’t a lab, he was a Sheltie. His name was Dandy and he was the light of my life next to my children. He annoyed me, he soothed me, he loved my babies and we all loved him. Putting him down in 2003 was one of the hardest things I had to do up to that point in my life.

2 weeks later, we had another dog. Our house limped without a dog in it. My days were inconsolably silent. Someone would step on one part of the kitchen and the whole house would upend itself because the grounding was gone – Dandy was gone. So, we added Cartman, the pug. Yes, Cartman as in South Park Cartman. I’d always thought that’d be a cute pug name…all grumpy and stompy and pinched voicey and boy was I wrong. Pugs are SO not Cartman-like. They’re happy and clownish and silly and never, ever, EVER are they grumpy.

Oh well…we love him anyway. And then…

“Honey, wouldn’t another one just be awesome? Maybe a black one. Oooh, I know!!! A black one we can name Chef!”

I’m a good little doggie racist, I know.

Silly man. Without even trying, we were back in touch with the breeder who sold us Cartman and before long, we had a black pug named Chef. And she had a website to “pay” for him. He wasn’t registered, but I’m not into all of that anyway and knew without registration, he might, maybe, but probably not have something other than pug in his lineage. Whatever.

Well, he has something other than pug. Something big we assume because this pug weighs well over 40 lbs. Pugs normally don’t get much over 20 lbs. His head is small, his body is huge, he’s stupid and silly and sweet and darling and did I mention stupid? Oh sweet Jesus, is this dog stupid. And, truth be told, Cartman isn’t a MENSA scholar either, let me tell you.

What do you get when you add stupid with stupid? You get a household where these types of things can be heard:

• Eat your own food!
• Spit out that toilet paper!
• Are you stuck again?
• Stop licking my nipple, please.
• No humping on the couch!
• Boys! Get a room!
• Cartman, put your penis away!
• Thank you for the escort, but I can pee alone.
• Puh-puh-puh-poopy face, puh-puh-poopy face…[/Lady Gaga]
• Go *push* down *grunt* the *PUSH* stairs!!!
• Stop eating my furniture!
• Who’s Mommy’s widdle Snugglebumpkins?
• What is that noise? Oh, Cartman’s just licking Chef’s penis, Mom.

And of course, the ever present, “GET OFF OF ME!”

In their natural habitat - ruling my life

They rule our home with complete idiocy. Sometimes, I envy them that, you know? Curlicue tails that wag when you enter a room, Chewbacca growls when you come home from even a five minute trip to the store, kisses when asked, kisses when unwanted, warm, snuggly bodies when the tornadoes of life swirl overhead…all of that and they don’t even TRY! They love because they can. They are loved because they do.

It’s a pretty good deal, I think. A really good deal. In fact…

Honey, wouldn’t another one…???