My poor Mother. All she ever really asked of us as her children was to give her grandbabies. She really enjoyed being a mom and drew much of her identity from it. So naturally all we little ingrates she raised seem to have absolutely no interest whatsoever in procreating.
Lena and I made certain, right off the bat, that neither of us were looking to become parents. My personal attitude has always kind of been that one child is understandable. Anyone can make a mistake. But two or more indicates prolonged and inadvisable substance abuse or worse. I do LIKE kids, but only OTHER people’s kids. I also have tremendous respect for people who have kids and do it well. But I know that wouldn’t be me. Why would I want to introduce someone new into my house who will compete with me for my money, time with my wife, and my Playstation? What am I, an idiot?
So we got dogs.
My dogs will never put me in a nursing home, wreck my car, or burn down the neighbor’s house. They, like me, are “fixed,” and unlike me don’t drink alcohol or say embarrassing things at parties. They don’t do drugs or ruin your vacation by getting tired and cranky 30 minutes into your day at Disney World. They never even get bad grades at school.
They DO love me and play with me and cuddle and watch TV with me. They hop up on the bed when it’s cold and warm me up, and let me know every single time the postman has the continued gall to bring us our mail. They also are the single best deterrent to burglers you can own, and they add years to an average person’s life.
So why am I telling you all of this today? Because I was going to write about how my eldest dog Roxanne, is psychic and I got totally sidetracked with the baby thing. Maybe next time!