Petty Complaints

Patty Swyden Sullivan
1st De Capo Press Ed edition, November 2005
Edited by Pam Brodowsky & Evelyn Fazio

Staying Sane
When You're Family Comes to Visit
by Evelyn Fazio, Pam Brodowsky
Nov 30, 2005, 1st De Capo Press Ed edition

Our adult children love their dogs and cats; and we love our children, but must we bond with their pets?

When our kids come to visit, the critters come. I will admit it straight out, I am not an avid animal lover. And the love I do possess is best demonstrated from a distance and most definitely not put to the test when these four-legged, fur-shedding mammoths park their behinds on my great-aunt Lorraine's Oriental rug. Our home was not designed for free-range zones. But what are parents to do when their children cannot bear the thought of leaving their beloved dogs (Hercules, Samson, and Hulk) in a kennel when they come to visit?

I acknowledge that dogs are often heroic and provide tremendous service in life. They are invaluable to the disabled, and they are loyal companions for shut-ins. Does this concession mitigate my campaign for legislation limiting their activity to these categories? What, too restrictive? Okay, add police and security guards to their sanctioned designations—anything but houseguest!

Unfortunately my children loudly disagree with my viewpoint. We waste most of our time together arguing the merits of their traveling companions. My children are indignant (an attitude that should be reserved for maligned mothers and the wrongfully imprisoned) that I place a higher value on material possessions over the sensitivities of their living, breathing; boy, do they breathe—pant, drool, pant, drool, pant-pant, drool-drool—dogs.

Perhaps I could handle these animals better if they were a bit more diminutive in stature. My children must believe the bigger the breed the deeper the love. Enter the German Shepard, Mastiff and Golden Retriever, lovable—even noble—animals when placed in fenced yards, parks, and other wide-open spaces. But inside my home they are creatures of mass destruction.

They thrash around our house swishing their tails with reckless abandon knocking over smaller less-substantial items; heirloom china cups innocently poised on the coffee table, meandering toddlers incapable of thwarting the magnetic appeal of fur and drool, and other various mid-sized valuables that topple in their wake. I will childproof a home gladly, but I am miffed at having to safeguard possessions from beasts that are best suited to pulling farm wagons. See? The opportunities are endless for these misappropriated giants.

Even asleep these pony-sized intruders offer no respite. They snore, whine and hack in their slumber exuding foul blasts of dog breath--ugh. I won't go anywhere near the other end as it emits intermittent wind reminiscent of the lingering stench from a sewage dump.

Another unavoidable annoyance is "their business." The three of them are steadfast, if not orderly, in their toilet habits. One dog barks to go out, another one barks to come in. In their endless rotation these traveling fur mongers deposit countless bits of dirt, clumps of dead leaves, and dry grass. Rain is my nemesis. I command the doorway with enough old rags to wax twenty Bentley's. In spite of the fact that my speed, dexterity, and form have earned me tremendous attention, paw wiping is my least favorite event right behind hog tying.

I would be remiss to omit the feline members of our clan; Schnook-ums and Ms. Jewels. However my list of grievances against them is fewer. They maintain a quieter demeanor unless they are coughing up fur balls or expressing displeasure at being noticed. In our home the visiting cats are sequestered to prevent war with the visiting dogs. The dogs sit outside the closed door whimpering, sniffing, and clawing at the carpet trying to reach Puss's' booty. I confess to a perverted pleasure in watching the dogs' pointless vigil. Then again, my pet problem could resolve itself, if I cracked the door a smidge; after all somebody ought to check on the kitties...

Before anyone calls the humane society to report me, I promise to never hurt, tease, or neglect animals in my care. What I will promise is to pay for each of my grand-pets to enjoy personal attention in the privacy of their own homes by a quality dog/cat sitter so that the next time my children come to visit we can do just that instead of fighting like—you know its coming—cats and dogs.