All characters appearing in this blog are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The facts described may not apply to all regions of the world. Content warning: The following text contains scenes of humor and should not be read by humorless persons.
“Treat me as a dog, honey!” If we were as patient, caring and understanding toward our spouses as we are toward our dogs, I’m sure that the rate of divorces would fall dramatically.
Dog owner: “My dog bites me sometimes when he gets too excited playing with a toy. What can I do?”
Dog owner: “My dog chews the couch and tears down the curtains when he’s home alone. What can I do?”
Dog owner: “My dog pees on the floor when we have guests. What can I do?”
Dog owner: “My dog bites people I meet on the street when they talk to me, but it is only to protect me. What can I do?”
Now, substitute the word dog with the word spouse in all sentences above. How many divorces are we facing, do you reckon?
Dog owners go to great extents attempting to solve the problems that invariably will pop up. Being a dog owner is living by the law of Murphy. When all fails, they adapt to their beloved pets and adjust their lives accordingly. They get up early and go to bed late because the dog needs to be walked and do stuff—and sometimes there’s a lot of stuff to do including the almost endless sniffing of a patch of pee.
They don’t go on holidays, or only shortly, because they don’t want to leave the dog behind. The dog decides who they visit, when and for how long. They visit only friends who accept their dog’s visit as well.
The dog cannot be home alone. Gone are the days when they could go to the movies as an impulse.
Gone are the lazy Sunday mornings, staying in bed a bit longer.
Their impeccably clean home is not impeccable any longer because dogs imply hair, dust, fluff, flees, accidents—and the dog never tidies up.
Imagine that your partner bites you when watching an exciting TV program, pees on the toilet seat, hits people who talk to you, force you to go for a walk in pouring rain, regularly interrupts your movie watching, always decides where to go on holidays, chooses which friends you can see, and makes a mess of the house and never cleans up. I bet you would be gone even before you have had the time to finish reading my blog (and I, for one, would not have blamed you for that).
“Treat me as a dog, honey!”
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