I try not to overly coddle my dog. But it’s hard to avoid since I’m constantly combating the bad influence set by my wife. She spends so much time carrying our little Shitty around that onlookers undoubtedly mistake him for a quadriplegic. In reality, however, he owns four perfectly functioning appendages. But thanks to my doting spouse (doting only on the dog, I assure you) he doesn’t seem unduly interested in using them. Who can blame him though? Why waste horsepower motoring himself from place to place, when a personal slave can bear him about like some ancient Egyptian Pharaoh?
As if toting the critter hasn’t created enough issues, Sophia’s excessive mollycoddling also has turned our canine into a cling-monster. On the rare occasions when “Lord Prometheus” (as I’ve started referring to him) finds his four paws planted on terra firma, he immediately searches for the nearest human leg to scratch, thereby indicating his desire to be hoisted anew. He’ll tap a leg for that purpose without regard to the inconvenience his request poses. For instance, the fact that Sophia happens to be attending nature’s call doesn’t dissuade him in the least from seeking a perch on her lap.
Yes, even on the toilet my wife caves in and grants Prometheus his wish! Don’t ask me exactly how she manages. I haven’t, and up till this morning hadn’t planned to. But somehow she’s able to complete her bathroom business despite having a five pound fur-ball sprawled across her thighs.
To me there’s nothing worse than an obnoxiously spoiled dog. I refuse to let Prometheus become one of those teacup mutts who’d rather sit in a pocketbook all day than chase a ball around. Consequently, when he’s with me the critter walks on his own four feet; and I don’t pick him up every time he scratches my leg.
Exceptions exist of course, as I discovered this morning. Last night Prometheus didn’t seem his normal self. He didn’t eat his entire dinner as usual, and more disturbingly he didn’t want to play fetch. When he threw up later and then awoke listless, I knew something had to be wrong. It’s one matter to avoid pampering a healthy dog, but there’s no way I’ll discipline our pet when he’s under the weather.
That’s why I relaxed my normal rule and carried Prometheus wherever I went this morning. It’s also why I did the one thing I’d vowed never ever to do: I let him sit on my lap in the bathroom. Well let me tell you, wiping your ass with one hand while trying to hold a puppy above your balls with the other is just as tricky as it sounds. Perhaps a woman has an easier time of it. Who knows, maybe the whole process runs trouble-free without a man’s plumbing. With a man’s plumbing, however … I accidentally peed down the dog’s leg.