06/18/09 Bend

Recently my mother decided her fluffy white lapdog was not completely fulfilling her needs.  She found a solution: a second fluffly white lapdog.  The first dog is my friend.  This new dog has the appearance of a Kewpie Doll, the personality of Lord Valdemort, and the behavioral traits of the Viet Cong.  I have yet to call her by her given name.

I love animals.  Especially from a distance.  But I can pinpoint the day I knew they weren't meant for my care.  It was four years ago.  I thoughtlessly agreed to "catsit" for my then meteorologist.  I was in his bathroom, on my knees, holding a plastic scoop, mining a pea-green plastic litterbox.  I saw the cat smiling at me.  That was enough.

I realize I'm missing out on the joys of pet companionship.  I'm just not sure precisely what they are.  I get my fill of speaking with no one answering back -- I do that for a living.  The dog-owner relationship seems so terribly one-sided (Owner: "Okay, here's the deal, I'll clean you, shelter you, feed you, and entertain you, but, in return, I really expect you to show me loyalty."  Dog: "RUFF!").

I've been warned that nothing could distance me more from my Central Oregon viewing audience than the admissions made above.  Dog owners, please show me patience and understanding.  Lord knows you have it in spades.

jayfrank@kohd.com