Saturday 19 September 2015

Sooner Rather Than Later

I was talking to my daughter that lives in Toronto the other day about our impending trip to visit her and others. I guess the catalyst for the journey is the 50th reunion of my high school. More of an excuse than a catalyst I suppose. Any ways…during the conversation she mentioned how I hate my dog Buster. Whoa!!! 

“Who said I hate Buster?”

Maegan said that it came out when she was talking to Arwen the other day. I assured her that I don’t hate Buster now and have not hated him in the past. We continued our telephone visit and when I had time to think on my own I wondered how my lovely daughter could be so wrong.

I do remember a phone call during the last week that I talked to her about Buster, but I am pretty sure the word “Hate” didn’t come up. I was apologizing for foisting Buster on her and Brendan while I am away, even though I am aware that neither of them actually likes looking after Buster. He can be something of an asshole barking at anything that moves and some things that don’t move. He will inevitably piss on something that he shouldn’t piss on, but in his defence that is the only way he can get back at me for abandoning him. So far, he hasn’t ever bitten anyone, but if he does, it will be his last bite.

I think what may have caused some confusion is when I said that I wouldn’t be disappointed if he died. I would hope for a quick and painless death, but his being dead would make parts of my life just a trifle easier. The reason the kids have to look after him is that the kennel raised their rates by $10 per day and it would cost us over $700 for our trip. I would have been okay with $500, but that extra $200 was just too much to take. It isn’t as if he has ever earned a penny to contribute to his upkeep in all of the years he has been with us. He is the quintessential freeloader.

It has been pointed out to me that wishing for someone to die usually indicates extreme dislike of the individual. There is also the possibility that I could or would allow him to die without raising a hand to stop it. That just simply isn’t true! Well, I doubt I would give him mouth to mouth and I don’t think chest compressions would work. I have been tested and found wanting when during a choking incident I refused to administer the Heimlich manoeuvre. It turned out that my saying “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want a drink of water?” was pretty much useless. I don’t know what I could have done, there was no way I would put my fingers down his throat. His teeth are sharp, he eats meat, my fingers are meat and my momma didn’t raise no fool. Well, unless you count my brother.

Just to be clear, I DO NOT WANT BUSTER TO DIE. I might be anticipating and eagerly awaiting an early death, but I will not do anything to promote said death. In fact I will probably take him to the vets if he does get sick and I will seek treatment as long as it doesn’t cost too much. What’s too much? Well $700 is too much and $500 is borderline. I can’t really say until I am put in that position, but if I have any input, it will be sooner rather than later.


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