doing it doggy style.

Hi, I'm the other half occupying our house in Suburbia, Mass.  I'm going to go ahead and try to skip the intro, as Ash summed things up rather eloquently.  It's both beautiful and bizarre that 98% of the time as living-situation life partners we do, in fact, share a brain.  However, one area in which our mental capacities cease to remain congruent would be knowing how to live with a dog.  I mean I knew there was such a thing as baby-proofing your house but I had no idea you had to do the same damn thing with an animal.  Yes, friends, listen up-- we're taking a crash-course in Doggy Proofing 101.


If this were Baby Proofing 101 I'd tell you abstinence would be your #1 lesson to learn.  In dealing with the fact that your LSLP already has a baby--and by baby, I mean dog--my #1 lesson is Leave the Doors Closed at All Times.  It's your best defense against potential mischief.  At least until the dog sprouts opposable thumbs or something.


Moving on.  So you were dumb enough to forget to close your door?  Welcome to lesson #2: Dogs are Dirty Little Creatures.  At least under this roof, I've never seen the cliché dog-eats-a-shoe business.  No, once you enter the war zone that was once your room, bathroom, etc., you soon begin to notice your casualties include the crotches of all your dirty underwear, used Q-tips, any type of paper product, and what I consider the dirtiest thing little Fido has a craving for--tampons/applicators.  Yum.  Have fun cleaning that up.  


Leave the door closed. Period.  


Lesson #3: You're a Stranger, Always.  It doesn't seem to matter how many times I come home in a day, or how regular my schedule is.  The second my key slides into the door (don't even get me started on how important it is to NOT ring the doorbell), and I walk in the house, he's jumping up and down, barking his doggy brains out, and sniffing me up and down as if he's never met me before.  Though perhaps what it really comes down to is he can smell all the other dogs, cats, and horses on my clothing, confirming my infidelities. And I always knew that dogs begged.  But I didn't realize that ours was relentless at playing the I'm a Starving Child role.  Lesson #4 teaches us that unless the food is gone or the last of your glass of milk has been drunk, he will try to wiggle his way into getting some.  Even if it means climbing like a monkey or using slick cat-like maneuvers on the back of couches and chairs to get to it.  Yes I know it tastes better, but YOU JUST ATE, stop trying to take my food. 


But living with a dog isn't always stressful.  It can be fun and downright cute at times.  Ash and I discovered very early on that my role when I get home, regardless of how late it may be, is that I am his Real Live Play Thing.  And he has such a devious way of looking adorable while trying to maintain a vicious front, coaxing me to yank on the half-eaten bunny with its guts (aka polyfill) hanging out and around the room.  So we play around for a few minutes, until we're both exhausted and ready for bed.  And resting with Ash's dog is pretty awesome (when he's not stepping on your pubic bone) because he shares the same unhealthy obsession of spooning and snuggling as we do...  

I've always wanted a dog when I finally have my own place and the schedule to allow for one, but I'm thankful for this opportunity to experience things without the animal actually being my own...because I don't have to worry about walking him and making sure he takes a piss in subzero blizzard-like conditions. 


And since I can't pull my own BBD experience into the dog theme, Ashly, you'll appreciate this...


Bad Decision:  Hooking up with someone while the dog, with no boundaries, hangs out in the same bed.
Better Bad Decision:  Buying a new doggy bed to lure the dog onto the floor of the same room for future hook-ups.  ;)


LSLP Amanda xo