I’m so glad I have so many moms, and maybe even a few dads, who read my blog, because I need your advice.
I do not have kids, well not human ones anyway. I have dogs. If you’re one of those people who hate when people compare human kids to dog kids, then you might want to skip today’s post. But you may also want to read it because I’ll probably give lots of examples of why I’d be a really terrible parent and then you can all ban together to form a coalition and create flyers and mail them to all the storks that say “Don’t ever bring this woman a baby.” And the storks will listen to you and you’ll feel like you just saved the world from the zombie apocalypse or a rabies outbreak or the very viral and deadly goat flu.
And then the rest of the world will think you’re a hero and tell you you’re pretty and buy you presents and it will be the best day of your whole life.
I hope you appreciate the things I’m willing to do for you.
The husband and I are planning a trip. It could be in the next week or sometime in the next year, or possibly the next ten years. My extreme paranoia prevents me from telling you when, or where, we will be going, but we’ll most likely be staying at the Ho-tel Mo-tel Holiday Inn.
We are thinking of boarding Evil Cody. He’s not really evil. He’s just high energy. If he were a person, he’d be on Ritalin, or maybe forced into a drug induced coma so the rest of the world can have five seconds of peace.
I found the Canine Country Club online, which is a place that lets the dogs run free all day long. They even get to sleep in a giant living room on blankets and beds or couches or anywhere they want. That’s right, NO CRATES. I love this idea because no woman will ever be good enough for my baby boy! Wait…I think I mean that crates aren’t good enough for my dog. That previous sentence is what I’d say if High Energy Cody were a human child and grew up and got married. Yeah, I’d be a terrible MIL and criticize my DIL’s cooking and cleaning, and the way she got her hair did. (Which by the way, MY MIL has never done. Ever. It’s like she never got the memo on how to be a terrible MIL. Or maybe she did, threw it away and decided to an awesome MIL. She’s a rebel like that.)
I called the Canine Country Club and spoke with the owner.
Me: So they just get to run around all day?
Me: And what happens if there’s a fight or two dogs don’t get along?
Owner: Oh in nine years I’ve never had a problem.
That’s cuz she’s never met High Energy Cody.
Owner: But I don’t take just any dog. They have to pass an interview test. We’ll let Cody play with a few of the other dogs and see how they get along.
Awesome. I hope those other dogs like non-stop jumping in their face, and nearly getting knocked over and having their rest on the couch disturbed by another dog coming up and talking, “nnmm, ohmnb, onmenm.” That’s Cody talk for, “get up; I want to sit there. well actually, I don’t want to sit there, I just don’t want you to sit there.”
Mah baybee’s such an angel.
Or maybe he’s a brat. (But really, he’s an angel.)
This is where I need your advice, moms and dads. What should I do to prepare Cody for his interview? Should I sit down and have a talk with him? Bribe him with bacon to be good? Implement a rigorous don’t-annoy-the-other-kids obedience training in the next twenty-four hours? Or should I just let him be himself?
And what about during the interview? What should I do if he’s really high-energy, aka annoying, and all the other dogs are like, “dude, get this psycho outta here”? Should I make excuses for him? Scold him? If he starts peeing on everything should I laugh and say, “boys will be boys”? If he starts humping all the pretty girls, should I smile proudly and say, “he takes after his father”?
And what if he fails the interview? I don’t think I can handle failure. Not because we won’t have a place to send Cody and therefore won’t be able to go on our trip (I’m sure there’s some place that will accept him, like Canine Boot Camp). But because I was a perfect child. I never failed at anything. Ever.
If he fails, does that mean that I failed? Does it make me a bad mother? And what about Cody? Does that mean he’s a terrible child because he “does not play well with others”? Should I use this as a teachable moment and explain to him what he could have done better?
Will his self-esteem be shattered? Will he start using drugs and listening to angry music?
Should I tell him he did nothing wrong and all the other dogs were just jerks? Chances are, that’s what I’ll do.
Sometimes we take High-Energy Cody and his brother Sweet Riley to the dog park. Sometimes skirmishes break out. After we separate the dogs, I’m all, “those other dogs were terrible.” And the husband’s all, “it wasn’t the other dogs’ fault, Cody was trying to jump all over them and Riley was barking in their faces for twenty minutes.”
And then I’m all, “don’t say that about mah baybees! they’re perfect angels!” And then I tell them they are THE BEST DOGS EVAH! and to just keep on being them.
Which is probably exactly what I’d do if I had human kids.
Teacher: Your son Johnny punched Tommy in the face today. He’s a terrible kid.
Me: What?! No he’s not. I’m sure Tommy did something to deserve it. I mean seriously, just look at him sitting there quietly, minding his own business, drafting a memo to the President on how to accomplish world peace. That’s a troublemaker if I ever saw one. Come on Johnny, let’s go see who else you can punch in the face.
I’m trying to determine how many anxiety meds I can take and still be coherent enough to drive to the interview. I’m guess twelve.
Should I give Cody some of my anxiety meds? Should I dress Sweet Riley up as High-Energy Cody and try to trick the interview-er? Should I borrow another dog that looks just like Cody for the interview and then the day we drop the actual Cody off, hand the owner the leash and run away real fast before, in his excitement, Cody rips a six inch gash in her leg or causes her to punch a co-worker in the nuts?
I’m freaking out! Please! Tell me what to do!!!