There are numerous troubles with pets. They love you when you feel unlovable. They plop right down next to you, or on top of you when you'd rather just be left alone. Somehow, their head seems to end up under your hand, and the next thing you now, the opportunistic attention whores are getting a scalp massage, and you are starting to feel like maybe the world doesn't suck after all. Stupid animal, ruining a perfectly fine sulk.
As if that wasn't enough, they stalk you. Oh, they'll play it off like they just want to be fed, or hey, what a coincidence that you are sitting on the exact same chair they wanted. But its a lie. You feed them, or give up the chair - and they STILL follow you around. Like they like you or something. When you finally do sit down, it's all "Whoops! My head is accidentally under your hand again, I guess you want to pet my head then? Okay!" Accidental my ass. You were head-butting my hand until I lifted it up, Cat. I'm onto you.
Basically, these idiot pets act like you are some sort of amazing, wonderful love-being. Then you get accustomed to them being all funny, and quirky, and follow-aroundy. They brain wash you into LIKING IT BACK when they jump on your head, or head-butt your hand, or groom your ear after you get home.
They save the worst for last though. After you are fully and totally brainwashed, convinced that annoying little love-beast is necessary for continued daily routine life, accepting their misguided believe in your awesomeness... the stupid animal goes away. They leave life behind by getting too old to head butt you, or too sick to stalk you, or hit by a car that didn't see them in the street. And they die.
Then what can you do? Nothing. There is no answer to this. You miss the rotten, fluffy, stupid head butting, quiet companionship. You pretend it's normal to sit on the couch by yourself with a book, and weep quietly because no one is poking holes in your leg. no one is dropping a soggy tennis ball in your lap, no one looking at you, then at an empty food dish with GREAT MEANING. You cry, because you think maybe you were an amazing love-being for them after all, but you can't tell that stupid animal "Thank you for teaching me."
In memory of Dixie Diamond, a cat, and Esther P. Moonshine, a dog.
