Working like a Dog
Like most people, I run around like madman in the morning trying to get a ton of chores done before I leave for work: feed 5 pets, fill water bowls, clean litter boxes, wash and put away dishes, listen to Mom complain over the phone all the way from Pennsylvania, clean up the yard, fill bird feeders, shower, put on the face (which gets a lot harder, takes a lot longer, and never looks as good as it used to!), — you know the basic routine. Weekends aren’t much better with more must-do tasks like laundry, shopping and cleaning.
So I’m in the middle of this mad dash, when I see an oft-seen sight: Peanut, lying on the leather couch, relaxed as can be, his head resting upon a pillow. Scooter’s sprawled out on the love seat and Zoe is snoozing on the floor. And I think about the saying, “working like a dog.” I really wish I had to “work like a dog.”
The three Muttkateers just enjoyed a healthy breakfast, several after-breakfast treats and a romp in the yard. I served their food, I cleared their plates, I opened the door for them. They’re on a 24/7 cruise and I’m the entertainment director, maid, chef and cabana boy. Yes sir, someone surely is working like a dog.
Humans who work hard say this all the time, but it’s time to come up with a new adage, because modern American dogs don’t work much.
That saying obviously originated when dogs really did work—and some still do today—with firefighters, police officers, leading the disabled, herding on farms, hunting and so on. Dogs do need a job, because a lot of the behavioral problems you see result because dogs were bred to work, yet most humans don’t give them enough exercise and stimulation. Watch an episode of “The Dog Whisperer” if you don’t believe me.
The only work my dogs do around the house is to work The Boss’s nerves raw. If I had a dollar for every time he said, “Those dogs are a pain in the a*%, you wouldn’t be reading this, and I’d be drinking a stiff one out of a glass with an umbrella on a secluded beach in 80 degree weather.
Are we truly out pets’ masters? I suspect it’s the other way around. If I truly were the master, they’d be serving me dinner, cleaning my bathroom, brushing my hair, filling the refrigerator, jumping up every five seconds to open the door for me and taking me for a walk.
So who’s the dog in your house?
posted by Sandy at 2/19/2007 06:15:00 AM