So, we're watching my boyfriend's parent's dog while they're out of town again. She is such a good dog. She doesn't destroy things, or jump on people/things, or bark for no reason. It is because she is such a good, good dog and yet I can hardly stand her sometimes that I know I'm a bad, bad person. The clanking of her collar on her metal water bowl, how she follows me from one room to the next with her nails click click clicking on the fake wood floor, the sound of her licking her paws incessantly by my bed in the middle of the night, her drooling on the windowsills as she stares outside, having to clean up doggy doo doos before I mow: these things bother me, they accumulate, they make me ready to boot this adorable, well mannered, and gentle animal out the door after a few days.
I can't say that I'm not a dog person. I grew up with dogs. I had one particular dog when I was 10 to 22 that I considered a childhood friend.
Maybe living on my own for five years had messed me up and I don't play well with others anymore. Maybe I loathe the thought of having something completely dependent on me. Maybe there's something to that since having pets and babies have never been appealing to me. They are both very much in the "completely dependent" category.
In conclusion, I am a selfish asshole.
I tried to take a picture of her looking cute and cuddly, but she just ended up looking proud and majestic. She's an extremely photogenic dog apparently.
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