To cut a long story short, it appears that I have failed to impress much on Nacho, the family dog. Well guess what dude? The feeling is 100 percent mutual dude… So far, it’s not exactly like he’s blown me away either with his capabilities and contribution to the family.
This, “brother by a different mother” as Mommy insists on calling him, is a blonde like me, but that’s about as far as the similarities go. He’s smelly, he sticks his nose quite literally where it doesn’t belong (where no nose belongs, I might add) and has a nasty habit of performing his intimate grooming wherever and whenever it pleases him. He is behaviourally challenged to the point where he almost had the neighbour's son and dog for breakfast and so stupid so as to chase his own shadow. However, none of these attributes are quite as bad as the fact that he steals the spotlight away from ME. Not only is he always around, lingering like the drunken memories of a terrible one-night stand, but whenever I let my guard down, not two seconds go by before he’s right up in Mommy’s face sucking up to her with his big brown eyes in a pathetic effort at pulling her away from me.
To me, he is yet another piece of evidence of Mommy’s sporadic bouts of insanity. I mean, in what universe did she think that it would be a good idea to bring someone home who just eats, sh*ts and sleeps?! The stupid mutt can’t talk, chews on whatever you put in-front of him and has a really annoying tendency of making himself known just as you’re about to put your feet up and doze off. And talking about dozing off, it’s not even like he’s half decent company when he’s sleeping as that’s when his digestive systems apparently gets going and what normally is a barely tolerable dog smell escalates to something which God did not intend for any human nose to have to put up with. Ever.
So what does this family member bring to the table? Well not much if you ask me. Unless you’re a fan of finding white strands of hair on everything from your dummy to your diaper, or you particularly enjoy dealing with poo, I’m not sure why you would voluntarily welcome him to the family. OK, so he’s moderately cute – I can give him that. But I still remain to be convinced that physical appearance only, make up for his other and many shortcomings.
Mommy on the other hand, is of a different view. Perhaps it is because of what can only be her pathological need to clean up after others, but she actually seems to love having him around and counts herself lucky to be able to have him. Lucky in the same way you discover an STD in its early stages, I would say… Furthermore, she claims that there are overwhelming health benefits from having a dog, such as a smaller propensity for children to develop allergies and several more “esoteric” advantages derived mainly from the fresh air you get when going for walks no matter what the weather. (Grasping at straws here anyone...?)
Daddy is more philosophical about the whole dog thing and although he’s a good sport and doesn’t complain about having to take him out for the last round of the day, he hasn’t exactly drunk the kool-aid on the topic (unlike Mommy). Needless to say, it was Mommy’s idea in the first place to adopt the Spanish mongrel; a spur of the moment decision which was made purely based on the cuteness of the pup on a single picture, combined with a plea from the dog shelter to save his litter from a rather dire fate. I guess her heart was in the right place, but it does worry me somewhat that she’s so easily convinced. I mean, what’s next? Inviting the local vermin for breakfast because she’s heard there isn’t enough garbage for them to feast on?
I don’t know. As far as I am concerned, this self-appointed guard dog (who so far hasn’t even been able to scare off our resident squirrel), has some sucking up to do before I start warming to him. For starters, he could give it up with the growling whenever I turn to look at him. It’s not particularly endearing and if I wet my pants, well it’s for a whole different reason...