I don’t really like the trouble of taking care of, or the mess of cleaning up after, actual, real animals.
I’m not what you might call a “dog person.”
And NO, that does not make me EVIL.
I don’t understand why it’s perfectly acceptable for people to say, “I hate cats,” but if you say you don’t like dogs, you’re suddenly a serial killer.
I like cats. I have a cat. He has dignity. He’s clean. He allows me to feed him, and to pet him if he’s in the mood to be petted, but he doesn’t slavishly follow me about. He doesn’t meet me at the door when I come home; he calmly waits for me to enter the room where he is, and then lifts his head in offhand greeting. “Oh, it’s you again,” he seems to say. “Perhaps if I feel like it you can pet me later.”
Now, I realize some people prefer a dog who will run to meet them with abject joy, seeming to say, “Oh hooray! It’s you! I’ve waited all day to see you! Oh please please please please PLEASE pet me now!” Well, I just don’t care for that sort of an indecent display in my home.
But I wouldn’t say dogs are my LEAST favorite animal. Dogs are okay, in their own way.
I really hate llamas. They are just rude animals. I had one spit in my face when I was feeding him a carrot once. REALLY. Just rude.
My oldest daughter (a true animal lover, unlike her mother) recently bought this picture for her college apartment:
I told her I could not believe she had gotten a picture of my arch-enemy animal to hang on her wall. She KNOWS I hate llamas.
But, she explained, it was an ALPACA.
I said, that’s the same thing as a llama.
But, my daughter is a biology major. She’s planning to go to veterinary college. She knows the difference.
She kindly sent me a helpful chart to distinguish between the two animals.
Now, if that isn’t scientific, I don’t know what is!
I went to the commissary to grocery-shop after a fresh dump of snow recently.
When I arrived, the path I usually take to the door had not been shoveled, but there was a set of footprints on it, going straight for the entrance.
I decided to go that way instead of walking all the way around to where the sidewalk was.
I realized my mistake very quickly, as my legs sank almost knee-deep and snow began to fill my boots. This was not a path! This was a trap!
I lost my footing in the soft snow and fell. I got up. I fell again. I got up and kept walking. There was nothing for it now.
I hoped very much that no one I knew could see me. I bitterly regretted leaving my coat and gloves in the car. The store entrance seemed miles away.
When I finally arrived at the door, which obligingly slid open automatically, just as it was supposed to, I was encrusted all over with a coating of snow. I looked like that kid I blogged about last year. (See “The Boy Who Was Covered in Snow“)
I tried to gather the shreds of my dignity as I brushed snow off my clothes and hair, and tried to scoop it out of my boots. I straightened up and headed into the store.
That’s when I realized I’d left my grocery list in the car.
I saw a certain ridiculous advertisement on my Facebook wall.
(By the way, isn’t it creepy how Facebook knows EXACTLY what to advertise to me? It’s profiled me as a woman in her forties, so I get ads for cleaning products, wrinkle cream, and those panties you can pee yourself in and supposedly no one will know. To my younger friends who are thinking, “Ewwwww”– Just you WAIT!)
But I digress. It mostly gives me mom-related ads like these:
Just HOW does this solve the problem of having multiple kids?
Does it help moms grow extra arms?
Can it help restore a mother’s lost sanity?
At the very least, will it block some of the horrific noise generated by multiple children?
Over the weekend I went to a Christian ladies conference in Colorado Springs. (It was wonderful of course.)
One of the things they had there was a representative from the company 3 Seams, which is one of those fair trade type things where they help women in third world countries make a living wages sewing clothing or making jewelry. They had the beautiful wrap things for sale with pretty colors and soft fabrics.
The girl demonstrated how you could wear it as a jacket or a scarf or whatever and lots of the ladies were buying them. Everyone who had one looked great in it. It was like something all the cool ladies had.
I passed the table like twenty times and finally succumbed on the last day and bought one in a gorgeous blue color. I was super pleased with myself and my purchase. I was ready to be cool like everyone else.
Then I came home and got ready to wear my fabulous new wrap in real life.
Somehow, it just doesn’t look as good on me as it did on those cool ladies. And from the back?
My 17-year old said, “Mom, you look like a giant M-n-M!”
Wow. Well, at least the craftswomen in Cambodia got a fair wage out of it.