Published: August 31, 2008 12:02 am            

Envious of dog's charmed life

Judy has been steadily moving my laundry boundary farther and farther from the new house. At first, she let me dress and undress upstairs, right there in the walk-in closet, within reach of my dresser and hanging clothes, which was a big selling point back when we were planning our dream house. But then, alas, an investigation was launched which concluded the 11 particles of sand discovered in the closet carpet probably came from my socks; leading to the inescapable conclusion that over time, the new wood flooring downstairs would sustain irreparable damage through constant exposure to my feet and said sand. From then on, I was required to remove all socks at the back door and leave them in the utility room. We already have a no-shoes policy indoors, so it was no big deal to step it up to the next level of cleanliness; or so said my wife; whom I love and adore.

The whole idea of having a utility room was to shuck as much outer garb as necessary at that port of entry, as further explained by my ever instructive wife; who, it was pointed out to me in no uncertain terms, was the only person likely to mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. After a very short period of adjustment, Judith the Clean took things a step further and issued the following edict: Since socks and shoes were being removed already, if I were attempting entry to the domicile in working clothes it only made sense to disrobe entirely in the utility room and toss everything in the hamper. My cooperation in the matter would therefore show cleanliness might or might not be related to godliness but was surely next door neighbors to a happy marriage.

Later still, it was determined my work clothes were stinking up the laundry room to an unhappy degree in the interval between shucking and washing. Therefore, the hamper was relocated to the back porch, at the opposite end, farthest from the utility room door. I was now required to strip down 40 feet from the nearest point of privacy and make my way indoors best as modesty allowed.

Now, just the past week, within 24 hours of getting a roof on our new garage, Judith of the Oaken Woods has moved the hamper outside and it reposes just inside the garage alongside the predicted pathway I might take from out of doors to in of doors. The fact that I have created unclean clothes in the Herculean effort to construct a garage by myself, from scratch, for her benefit and the protection of her new car did not enter into the matter nor was given the level of consideration it deserved, to my way of thinking. Now for contrast, consider the following:

Millie the dog started life as a dog and not knowing any better, slept in ignorant bliss outside, exposed to the elements as the creator intended when he set about inventing outdoor creatures. Despite this, Judith the Protector of all Pets concluded that wolves and panthers might, and therefore eventually would consume Millie unawares. I was therefore directed to build a kennel for said dog, hang the expense. I did as instructed. Sometime later it was determined that Millie the Sensitive was too likely to suffer the ill effects of rain, wind, snow, or earthquake being confined to such an enclosure for any length of time, and her sleeping arrangements were thus remanded for review and relocation.

The dog Millie, hair shedding and smelly though she may be, filled to the brim with mud and lice and fleas and ticks and lord knows what other vermin, now has the complete run of the back porch that I am banned from entering clothed. As Judy says, the puppy thinks she is a member of the family and wants her own room in the house near us. So, Millie now sleeps on the screened in back porch, eats there, and lounges there as she desires, and her attire is not even up for consideration. She reposes nightly on a fluffy plaid bed that Judy washes every week, has her own personal electric fan, and is surrounded by toys and other accessories bought for her on a constant basis, unrelated whatsoever to Christmas or birthdays. She is subject to combings and pettings without end, to enhance her pelt and bolster her confidence. When the dog leaps on Judith the Kind with muddy paws and slobbering jowls she is not offended in the least, but in fact coos and pets and showers affection on the offending varmint so as not to discourage her, whilst I stand idly by in the distance, ignored and naked to the skivvies, waiting for somebody to unlock the door.

One day not so long ago, I uttered a humorous comment in the hearing of my esteemed wife, something to the effect that given the contrast between Millie’s lifestyle and mine, I’d just as soon be treated like a dog too. All I got in response was an arched eyebrow. The pink plastic hamper is now relocated inside the vacant kennel. That is probably just a return joke on her part. If I find my supper in a metal dish alongside, I will know better.

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Guest columnist Michael Thomason is a Palestine business owner.

        

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