Ticking Time Bomb
I've been told by many a wise woman that once you hit your late twenties, its ticking becomes quite pronounced, reminding you of your evolutionary obligation. What no one is able to tell me is where to return my biological clock, insofar as it seems to be defective. Mine ticks incessantly, growing increasing louder - but not for a baby.
I want a puppy. I reallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreally want a puppy.
I can't have a puppy. Well, more specifically, I have been forbidden by the Object to get a puppy. Apparently we don't have the time to train it, don't have time to care for it, don't have room for it, don't have a lease that permits pets; puppies grow up into doggies, which are not quite as cute, puppies do not use a litter box, puppies require one not to be completely averse to getting out of bed before 8 a.m. and also smickedy smackedy blah blah blah.
"But those are just obstacles, not walls," I interrupt when the Object gets to his twelfth or thirteenth reason why I can't have a puppy. "If we really committed to having a puppy, we could overcome those things."
He'll ask, "And just how to you propose overcoming these obstacles?"
"You're missing the point," I counter. "Puppies are cute. And snuggly. You would LOVE having a puppy! You'd be so great at training it! And it would mess with the cat's mind, which you would enjoy!"
This is usually the point where the Object leaves the room in search of beer.
It's getting to be a problem, this puppy fever. It started innocuously enough - I'd see a puppy and exclaim, "PUPPY! Oh, can we get a puppy? Please?" It wasn't long until I started following puppy owners. On more than one occasion, the Object had to point out that we had long since passed our original location. At first, I would discreetly follow for a few yards. Yards turned into blocks; blocks turned into miles, and it wasn't long until I was following puppies all the way home - not unlike a puppy, but without the same warm welcome. I started compiling a mental map of all wiggly balls of snuffly cuteness in a three-mile radius.
And then, one sunny afternoon, I was following a puppy with soft and lustrous silvery short hair and slightly floppy ears (about a six on the floppiness scale) when I walked smack into a pole.
"BONK," my head exclaimed loudly. The puppy owners turned around. "Are you ok," they asked.
"No," I responded. "Can I have your puppy?"
When conventional methods of puppy finagling failed, I started to get desperate. I bought a giant new tote bag, ostensibly for the purpose of carrying documents around to business meetings out of the office. Because the bag was perfectly puppy-sized, I had a tendency to "forget" my documents and follow puppy owners uncomfortably close, waiting for the right moment to make my move.
All that changed today when my biological clock malfunctioned yet again.
I want a lion cub.
I want a puppy. I reallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreally want a puppy.
I can't have a puppy. Well, more specifically, I have been forbidden by the Object to get a puppy. Apparently we don't have the time to train it, don't have time to care for it, don't have room for it, don't have a lease that permits pets; puppies grow up into doggies, which are not quite as cute, puppies do not use a litter box, puppies require one not to be completely averse to getting out of bed before 8 a.m. and also smickedy smackedy blah blah blah.
"But those are just obstacles, not walls," I interrupt when the Object gets to his twelfth or thirteenth reason why I can't have a puppy. "If we really committed to having a puppy, we could overcome those things."
He'll ask, "And just how to you propose overcoming these obstacles?"
"You're missing the point," I counter. "Puppies are cute. And snuggly. You would LOVE having a puppy! You'd be so great at training it! And it would mess with the cat's mind, which you would enjoy!"
This is usually the point where the Object leaves the room in search of beer.
It's getting to be a problem, this puppy fever. It started innocuously enough - I'd see a puppy and exclaim, "PUPPY! Oh, can we get a puppy? Please?" It wasn't long until I started following puppy owners. On more than one occasion, the Object had to point out that we had long since passed our original location. At first, I would discreetly follow for a few yards. Yards turned into blocks; blocks turned into miles, and it wasn't long until I was following puppies all the way home - not unlike a puppy, but without the same warm welcome. I started compiling a mental map of all wiggly balls of snuffly cuteness in a three-mile radius.
And then, one sunny afternoon, I was following a puppy with soft and lustrous silvery short hair and slightly floppy ears (about a six on the floppiness scale) when I walked smack into a pole.
"BONK," my head exclaimed loudly. The puppy owners turned around. "Are you ok," they asked.
"No," I responded. "Can I have your puppy?"
When conventional methods of puppy finagling failed, I started to get desperate. I bought a giant new tote bag, ostensibly for the purpose of carrying documents around to business meetings out of the office. Because the bag was perfectly puppy-sized, I had a tendency to "forget" my documents and follow puppy owners uncomfortably close, waiting for the right moment to make my move.
All that changed today when my biological clock malfunctioned yet again.
I want a lion cub.
posted by The Goo at 8:49 AM
6 Comments:
I'm right with you -- I want a baby polar bear.
I too want a puppy so badly that I would be willing to punch the owner of a puppy in the face just so that I could steal it. However, my super-mean husband has told me that we cannot have a puppy. well that's not entirely true, he told me that I can have a puppy if I get my tubes tied. After some careful consideration, I realized that I may be able to get away with stealing someone's puppy after assaulting them. However, I would probably spend a great deal of time in prison if I did the same to someone with a baby.
What a crock.
Wait, you'd get a puppy AND your tubes tied? What's the compromise? Sigh, one woman's dream is another woman's burden. What if you got an IUD? Or lied?
By thew way, anyone wanna go puppy snatching?
count me in. There's a poor bull dog that slouches in the sun all day and sleeps propped on the curb at night that is tied right in front of my school right now.
Hey goo - you're in the district with me - feel free to "use" my dog....he's not much of a puppy in size anymore, but he's definitely got the attitutde! He's a 65 lb boxer, but he loves everyone. We come over to the Adams Morgan "dog" park every now and then on a saturday....and hey, would you be willing to puppy sit sometime to get your puppy "fix"?
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