Okay, she hasn't wasted much time lately protecting me from minor catastrophes beyond my control, but she somehow got wind of the fact that I am contemplating a new puppy. This, of all things, got her attention.
Last night, after allowing a full day's worth of images of yellow lab puppies capture my imagination, God appeared to me, like a vision. Well, not exactly a vision so much as a morbidly obese blind and morose puggle who is, justifiably, wallowing in a bit of self pity. I get it. He's lost his best friend, his eyesight, and his lusty penchant for incessant cuddling and sloppy kisses. Everyone keeps telling me he needs a new buddy, of the four-legged variety, and who am I to not listen to everybody.
So I've been fantasizing, not only about yellow lab puppies, but about boxer puppies and golden retriever puppies and, yes, even puggle puppies, and when I weigh the pros and cons I conveniently forget some of the cons. Like all of them. Enter God.
Last night, after toppling his food bin and helping himself to a little snack, Manny spent a good few hours as I tried to fall asleep whimpering (so I let him out) and pretty much just bumping into things (which had me searching for a baseball bat as I wondered whether there was actually somebody else wandering around in the house). Finally, he stopped, shimmied his fat ass up onto my bed, and spent a good half hour loudly slurping and sucking away at a rawhide bone he had managed to ferret out with his keen beagle nose.
He eventually tired of the bone, hopped gracelessly off the bed and set about to tormenting me some more. No, what I heard was not water running in the bathroom. What I heard was Manny peeing on my bedroom carpet, which already looks like an abstract painting done in pale yellow on beige. Particularly discouraging since he is no longer on the steroids that failed to cure his blindness but were very effective in making him pee like a racehorse. Note to self: check the medicine cabinet.
Well, Manny finally fell mercifully quiet, and I seem to recall falling asleep to the soothing rhythmic sound of his congested snoring. Okay, maybe I would chalk it up to the extra helping of dinner. Images of yellow lab puppies and boxer puppies and golden retriever puppies and, yes, even puggle puppies began to dance into my dreams.
Enter God, again. In the morning, I came downstairs to a huge puddle of pee in the family room, and a pile (actually several piles) of poop the size of Montana on the floor of my office. If Manny is trying to convince me to get him a friend, he is going about it the wrong way.
Thank you God.
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