This essay in the NYT got me thinking about my dogs and how much they influence my life. I cant leave them home for longer than around 8 hours. I mean, they arent like kids and I can leave them when I go to work although on my new schedule, I have to come home to let them out on my lunch hour. If I need to go someplace that will require me to be away from my house for longer, I have to find a pet sitter (and I am lucky in that regard because my parents and my sister are both willing to do it).
I have to walk them. They have ruined my furniture. They have farts that can peel paint which they often like to let loose at night while I am sleeping which causes me to wake up sputtering and coughing. I often find myself walking around town with a bag or two full of poop. They bark while I am trying to watch movies. They kill animals and then bring them to me. They get skunked
But I honestly cant imagine life without ‘em