Hello Friends,
You never realise how much hotter you are when you’re single until you attach yourself to a male mutt named Sam who sports an overbite, slurps his dinner and quite frankly isn’t worth the responsibility.
Now before you get up in arms about me clearly being a ball-breaker, I can’t help it. At the moment when it comes to partners it’s like I’m a Buddhist. I don’t believe in attachment. (unless they are hot)
And I figure why not be like this for a while? I mean so many people go for ‘personality’ that it seems mean to leave the good looking people who also have charisma out in the cold.
There is a huge market of unreal people just itching to be given equal rights. Hence, I’ve appointed myself the chairwoman of the pound.
My rescue centre is called, ‘Dump the Dog, Date the Delight!’
Once when it came to dogs I used to have a penchant for those with behavioural problems (birds of a feather flock together and all that).
But issues are so early twenties…
Which is why I am so surprised it’s happened again with Sam.Oh Sam.
Now, so you don’t spend the rest of my letter cringing, red in the face with the acidic bile of embarrassment churning your stomach like a plump Nanna whipping a bowl of cream,(the type of stomach churning most commonly experienced at a dinner party when some dim wit is publicly roasting their partner) I must tell you.
I’m a stand by your man kind-of-chick. But dogs are different.
Sam is not my boyfriend. He is a Flee Bag and I’m not actually going out with him long term (thank Christ) I am babysitting him until the 16th of July.
Now, I’ve wanted a pooch for a fair while. But I’m not an ‘anypooch’ kind-of-gal. I want a dog, but not all dogs. And although I’m not unkind to any, I by no means purchase K9 paraphernalia or am one of those people who practically molest every dog that walks past on the street while screaming like a banshee, “Oh he is so cute!!!”
I find that kind of behaviour weird as dog lips to be honest.
When it comes to people, pooches, and pizza, I just can’t fake it. I can sometimes betotally into something (and this normally lasts a long time),and I don’t lose friends easily (I had the same dog Muffin for 18 years and same best friend Cam for half my life).
I’m not so much a snob as I am selective.
So as we would see, with me the laws of attraction are strong and binding.
When I find something attractive, I like it.
When I don’t, I find it groundbreaking repulsive.
It’s the kind of repulsion that makes it hard to make eye contact. My hands grip onto the oversized red velvet chair with every inch of my body as my mouth clams shut and my mother screams,
“Emma-Kate say hello.”
I’d think, “Um,to that monster. I’d rather die of hyperthermia before I would even look at them.”
She couldn’t make me say hello then and you can’t make me now. However, I’m not three now so I generally force myself to rise above the physical repulsion that will strike without warning. Most commonly it’s when watching reality television.
Which is why I can’t understand how I have found myself committing to a dog/live-in flatmate who I’d never even met.
Now instead of enjoying my morning jog, I find it hard to raise my head. Strangely it’s not because I’m actually wearing lycra on my lower half in public, but because Sam is with me. And he is not my choice or taste. He is a mangy, white, fluffy pedigree gone wrong.com. I want a greyhound.
When I was at work the other day I got a call from an anal,retentive dog minder (a daycare for dogs) who decided that, “My dog had been crying at daygroup all day.” The plight of the yuppie pooch!
This was followed by, “Could I come pick him up because he was disturbing the peace.” That’s my boy.
“Listen here you witch. I’m into mother rights and child communication so he can talk all he wants.”
Any bet when Sam is lying on his large red beanbag next week talking to his shrink he is going to have deep-seated abandonment/mothering issues due to me ignoring his cries and his need to speak. He may even come to torture women over it. Oh Christ the pressure!
For the first time in my life I really do feel the true joy that every babysitter has when you happily hand over the life you might have thought you wanted before realising wrong dog, no deal.
I mean Sam is cute. And I have learnt to love qualities about him…
But certainly not the fact that just as I’m about to have fun in the city I have to think of him. Or, that I was woken from my sleep the other morning with Sam in VERY close proximity to my face, staring at me. His vacant black eyes were glaring at my face like an over enthusiastic teenager who was about to commit a random act of bad foreplay.
His conversation is limited and he has dreadful teeth.
But in the same tone I love Sam because he has made me realise I’m not at a stage where I want to be needed as opposed to loved. I couldn’t give a crap that he loves it when I get home. I don’t bask in the glory that he needs me to feed him.
I’ve learnt certain things that I like about him. He doesn’t listen to a word I say but he always turns up when I call him. He likes to listen to me sing and he is a fan of a chat.
But Sam has made me even more resolute that being in a partnership, unless it’s the pooch of your choice, is just too time consuming.
So single folk don’t fret – rejoice!
Save Sam for Samantha and pick up someone with new tricks!
Because I mean let’s face it, I’m sure if an animal communicator came in the room the truth would be told.
As much as I think Sam sucks, he no doubt thinks I can be a bitch!
Email me, Emma-Kate Dobbin
editor@tootstar.com
