Animal Writes
19 December 2001 Issue
You Know You Are Owned by Pets When......

Copyright Jim Willis 2001
[email protected] 

... You spend eleven months of the year preaching an appreciation and understanding of canine behavior and the nature of the dog, then you stick fake reindeer antlers on the dog and photograph him for your Christmas Card.

... People are still talking about your spay-neuter holiday greeting from last year, "Deck the Halls with Balls of Collies."

... Not only do family and friends think you go overboard with doggie holiday decorations, they've never seen a nativity scene where the holy family is depicted by Boxers.

... You have a mental list of people you'd like to spay or neuter.

... You stopped at a house with a "Free Puppies" sign in the yard to have an Educational "Chat," . . .and your kids had to post your bail.

... Running out of paper towels is a household crisis.

... You not only know all the characteristics of a good "stool," ... you discuss them at dinner.

... Your checks have messages on them like "Subtract Two Testicles For Every Four Feet."

... You consider "The Culture Clash" your bible and believe the chairman of Disney Corp. is the antichrist. [especially if your breed is Dalmatians]

... You have a bumper sticker that reads "My Basset Hound Is Smarter Than Your Graduate Student."

... You can compare and contrast the finer elements of different kitty litter brands the way some people talk about wine.

... You secretly wonder about such things as how animals can manage without wiping.

... You pray they will someday manufacture Teflon furniture.

... You have phone calls forwarded to PetsMart.

... When your animal projectile vomits, you compare the speed and trajectory with previous incidents, and if the statistics fall short, you worry if the animal is okay.

... You absentmindedly pat people on the head or scratch them behind their ears.

... Given the choice of having your teeth cleaned or their teeth cleaned, they get their teeth cleaned.

... You not only allow pets on the couch, guests have to sit on the floor because the dog has "territorial issues."

... Your spouse missed the final game of the World Series because the cat wanted to watch his favorite video, "Birds of North America."

... Anytime the animal appears lethargic, you go on-line and investigate vetmed websites, pose questions to your address book and on e-lists, and by the time you digest all the information and field the correspondence, the animal has torn out the window screens, masticated a couch cushion and left something disgusting in your favorite pair of shoes.

... You have a special uniform you wear for "flame wars" on e-lists and know that being told to "get a life" means you have pushed all the right buttons.

... Your chatroom handle is "Queen of Spayeds."

... You and your vet are on a first name basis and he genuflects when you enter the waiting room. His daughter at Harvard refers to you as "Auntie."

... You needed a prescription to recover from "Old Yeller."

... You've forwarded more warnings about the dangers of chocolate, onions and mistletoe than the National Center for Disease Control has issued about anthrax and smallpox.

... You wear white year 'round, not because you are flaunting a fashion law or belong to a religious sect, but because you have a Dalmatian, Great Pyrenees, Samoyed or white Persian at home.

... The world would never guess from your "dog or kittyspeak" posts to e-lists - that in reality you are chairman of the IBM corporation.

... Vacuum cleaners in your household don't just die, they go out with more smoke and noise than the Taliban.

... By the time you investigate different flea control products, their advantages and potential risks, natural versus chemical methods, and study the life cycle of the flea, any fleas have died of old age.

... You tell your children to "heel!" in a grocery store.

... For relaxation, you went mall hopping with your girlfriends. Your eyes glazed over when you saw a sign in front of a pet shop, "20% Off All Puppies & Kittens," and you slapped three security guards before they got you safely contained in the manager's office.

Go on to A Rescue Animal's Christmas Poem
Return to 19 December 2001 Issue
Return to Newsletters

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