The Journal is an online collection of articles and essays written and curated by Thomas W Coombs, published bi-annually.

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Issue 47; Dog Day Afternoons

They say that a dog is man's best friend, the dog will wait for his master to return for the day to lavish him with fondness.  Now I may have missed something in the contract, but I feel it is more like the dog is waiting for the butler to return, the human servant who feeds said dog, picks up all the excrement when it is nice and fresh and rubs the belly of the upturned beast every time it looks a bit cute and demands it to happen.  I ask all, who really is the master here?

I sometimes feel less like the best friend to the hairy new addition to my family and more jailer and man servant combined.  Perhaps I have a sadistic streak, where I love having my arm pulled out of its socket for three hours in the evening as I try to work out what I missed in the current show on Netflix as my dog pulls on the toy like it may die if not.  The noise of growling as I am yanked from left to right by teeth so utterly terrifying I sometimes think I need a bigger boat.

I am over the thought that my life will be the same as it was before the dog, that ship has sailed long ago and my life and appointments now revolve around another which is not my wife.  I am also aware I will not be getting a puppy ever again, whoever says it was hard but okay has blanked the absolutely terrible time they had as the puppy, bit, ignored, shit, pissed and all out destroyed the calm of their life.  Those Friday after work Negronis are gone, you will pretty much hate everything for about six months and your life will feel in tatters.  My advice, don’t bloody get one, even though it improves and life starts to drip back to normal it is hard work (if parents, of human children, start commenting at this stage, don’t bother, we don’t care, your bundle of sick and shit has no razor sharp teeth that can get through flesh and bone like a velociraptor).

You get the fun of running around playing fetch and evening cuddles, fair, not always when you want them, but you are there to serve, never forget that.  You spend money on so much food, you forget to get your own, but it is needed to train them to leave you alone when you sit and drink a coffee in the morning, the smell of poo still lingering in your nostrils from the walk and subsequent picking up and disposing of said poo.  Not to scare new dog owners into getting a refund, it gets way better and they start chilling and sleeping for the day and you realise you might like them a bit, even though every so often they annoy you to the point of downing gin straight from the bottle.  I mean who doesn't want a half chewed shirt sleeve of the shirt you are currently ironing.

However, at the end of the day, who can really resist a Bond watching, Feet Warming bundle of bitey fur?