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How owning a dog put me off kids for life.

25/08/2015

I don't know if anyone knows this, because I totally *never* mention it - but I have a dog. I know, shocker. It's like a cute, cuddly little secret I never share - except with everyone I ever meet and everyone I who's attention I can attract. Whatever, I love him, he's a goddamn rockstar and everyone should know it. But what they don't know, is underneath that gorgeous, playful exterior lays a master manipulator, primed and ready to become your king. I am undeniably under his every command, and it's bloody hard work. He's demanding and time-consuming, and he's put me off kids for life:


1 - He's become my number one topic of conversation.

As I just mentioned, I'm obsessed. I natter about him constantly and this only escalates after a few too many cocktails. I coo. I cackle. I whip out adorable photographs. I'm a dog-obsessed bragging machine. Imagine what I'd be like with my own flesh and blood? I don't want to be one of those 'yummy mummies' who's profile picture is their kids, but I can see it being the inevitable.

2 - I've become shallow, judgmental and slightly dog racist.

I'm sorry, buuutt, my dog has it all. Sorry, not sorry. He's a pure breed, you know. Excellent breeding. You can see it in his coat. Gorgeous, isn't it? Your scrawny little Yorkshire terrier doesn't even compare. I mean, look at that face - he's a bonafide stud. He's like the Zac Efron of the dog world, that's for sure.

3 - I've become increasingly overbearing and protective.

There are no lengths I will go to protect my baby. He is a diamond in a world full of rocks. I recently berated a youth for swearing in front of him; I don't want him hearing such foul language! And he's a dog, for Christs sake. The only human words he understands are dinner and biscuit.

4 - I have to clean his shit, literally.

But at least he has the decency to alert me by barking and politely excusing himself to the garden. Babies, on the other hand, give no shits, about their shit.

Max

5 - I worry constantly that he'll have no friends.

I become giddily overexcited when he eagerly approaches another furry friend, only to cringe in disappointment as he shirks away at the slightest bum sniff. Curled up cowering in a corner, I have to proceed to make awkward small talk with the owner before walking away in friendless shame. What if that happened to my child!? Who would come to their birthday parties!?

6 - Does having no friends mean he'll be bullied?

Who will defend him from the evil, conniving cat next door that glares menacingly through the window!? It's an agonising thought. I can swat the cat away, but I can't be swatting away troublesome toddlers. That's pretty much illegal.

7 - I literally, cannot do enough for him.

More food. More water. More attention. But at least he don't want the entire contents of the Argos catalogue (Sorry mum and dad). Kids: the ultimate gold-diggers.

Max
8 - I will never really win an argument ever again.

It's a vicious battle of wills: I knew he'd broke the remote. He knew he'd broke the remote. We both knew about he goddamn remote. Yet there he'll stand, head cocked to the side, big brown eyes staring as if he was none the wiser. I can win the battle, but never the war. It's basically a perpetual state of losing from the moment I let him into my house.

9 - Basically, I have no control.

You may think you have the power, being the  owner - but you do not. I am slave to this bundle of joy. The amount of times I've had to grin and bare the polite jokes, 'is he taking you for a walk?' with a polite giggle, whilst deep down knowing that yes, yes he is taking me for a walk. As well as, TAKING ME FOR A GODDAMN MUG. I am merely servant to his every whim.

10 - I constantly worry something bad will happen.

What if he's dognapped? Or attacked? Or hurts himself? Why isn't there a goddamn emergency service for dogs?! Surely it's a necessity by now. It's a dangerous place out there for a dog, I've seen the Disney version of Oliver Twist - it's terrifying. Now imagine that stress for a fifteen-year-old child sneaking out to teeny-boppers on a Friday night (again sorry mum and dad). No thank you.

Dogs, they're a nightmare and require constant attention. But at least they stay in the same state of annoyance for their entire lives, babies grow up and blitz through different stages of trouble. I can't deal with the thought of that. It'll be a dog for me. Plus, you can lock the dog up in its cage when it's being a nuisance, but I don't think that's recommended with kids. You know what, why bother with the trouble? Get yourself a goldfish and leave it at that.

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