Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Why I Will Not Get A Dog

If there's one thing about me you should know, it's that I'm not a big fan of animals.

Okay, I can hear you *gasp* out with shock and/or horror, and you might be thinking about not coming to this blog ever again (although I doubt you would take it that far), but let me tell you this:

It's true.


I'm just not one of those animal types.  I have friends (actually, I think all of them are like this) that have dogs and think animals are "cute" and everything's just sweet and dandy (I have one friend who recently got a puppy and learned that everything's not all sweet and dandy).  Hey, even society's like that.  American Girl magazine includes pictures of cute animals on posters that say cheesy stuff like "I Ruff You!" (I should know, I subscribed to that mag for two years).  And at tennis, everybody's talking about their dogs and just yesterday my coach brought his two dogs.  One was a dachshund (Google search confirmation), I believe, and the other was a mutt.  They ran around the courts while we were rallying and got dog slobber on the balls (but we didn't mind.  Even I thought they were adorable).

I like to joke that the only dog specie I know are labs, German shepherds, and mutts.  I'm very ignorant of animals.

And whenever I see the girls in American Girl who do humanitarian work, like play a game on their website and companies donate ten kibbles for cats or whatever (cats eat kibble, right?), I always think, Bor-ing and skip to the good parts.  And then there was the All-Animal issue in American Girl.  I wasn't satsified with that one.

We also recently buried our beta fish, who lived a happy year with us.  I think my little sister forgot to feed him. (For some weird reason, the fish food smelled like fish itself...cannibalism?)  

Anyway, R.I.P. Purple Berry (I'd have a picture but the Wifi's going all wonky with my iPhone.  Just gargoyles, Wifi).  

Where is this going?  I had an interesting experience today.  I never realized how interesting my experiences have been until I got this blog.  Now, I know that life's an adventure.

My siblings are going to a school that's extremely good in academics and not-so-pressing on sports.  I think three-fourths of the small student body is Asian.  Asian with glasses (gotta hate those stereotypes).  When my mom realized that one of my brothers had no supervision in P.E., she took over.  I think she's single-handedly running P.E. for seventh through eleventh grades (there aren't very many kids, so don't sweat it).  And today, she had me help with a bunch of kids for fourth grade through sixth grade.  

The plan was, jog half a mile to a park (with a bunch of rowdy and lackadaisical--depending on the person--kids in tow, while crossing a street or two), play a game of soccer, jog half a mile back (with a bunch of rowdy and lackadaisical--depending on the person--kids in two, while crossing a street or two).  

It turned out to be so much more.

Guys, if you're having "teacher trouble"--like they're irresponsible or make wacky typos on lesson plans--please know that they are probably working SUPER hard.  I was only a TA, and it was stinking HARD!  

First, it took fifteen minutes to get all the kids rounded up, WITH their water bottles, and WITH empty bladders.  Then we had to do a head count (12 kids; it's very small), figure out if the entire fourth grade was there, learn all the rowdy kids' names, and go over the rules (two-plus times in a row).  At one point I felt like yelling "SHUT UP" even though I don't usually say that to anyone.  But then I thought it might crack them up too much (It was a funny situation, as in both weird and humorous) and might make them uncontrollable, so I didn't.  Then we ran to the nearby park.

Once we got there, I found myself leading everyone in stretching while my mom and brother and another lady rushed to set everything up (Stretching was only a distraction.  I wonder if the kids noticed).  I wore out my store of stretches, and, finally, sat down on the grass, feeling like I was about to throw up (Something got stuck in my throat and made my voice go all whacked).  

After a minute or two, I started smelling this awful, garbagey sort of smell.  Then I had a terrifically terrible revelation.

I SAT ON DOG POOP!

It was terrible (from a lack of better adjective, I repeat myself).  My mom was trying to be in three places at once, trying to organize the soccer game.  I told my other brother, who was there as a TA too.  He told my mom, who was understandably tight with my sudden emergency.  I hitched up my pants, dragged my shirt down, and tried to pretend like I hadn't sat on one of the most disgusting things on planet Earth.  Finally, my mom told me to go to the car and try to wipe the stuff off.  I went gladly.

Thank goodness for soccer practice!  My mom (She's having a full day today, I tell you) had to teach P.E., drop me off at home, go to a basketball clinic, and then go straight to my little sister's soccer practice.  She had packed a bunch of clothes for my sister, INCLUDING gym shorts that were my hand-me-downs, AND were big for my little sister--which meant it just fit me.  

It's a miracle, because my little sister was born when I was seven years old.

Thank God.  I'm not saying that as a profanity, take-God's-name-in-vain way.  I'm saying, THANK YOU GOD!

My stomach didn't recover right away, so when I went home I watched a little bit of an episode of Austin & Ally ("doin' things the Ally way--THE ALLY WAY!--doin' things the Ally way"), an episode of Jessie, and most of an episode of A.N.T. Farm, (Good Luck Charlie is the best, but there weren't any good episodes on On Demand) all the while eating nice cold watermelon (that was SUPPOSED to be seedless, but wasn't).  It's funny how on TV shows, things are mended so quickly, while in life, things need to HEAL.

Sometimes I wish life were a TV show.  

But it isn't.

So...that's the story.  Of how I'm not going to get a dog.  I think dogs are nice, but animals in general aren't my thing.  Maybe some people feel like animals are their calling, but I don't think mine is.  Mine is writing (as proven, or not proven, by this super super super long post).

Of course, I know it's not the animal's fault that it pooped in the park, and that I sat on it (It's my fault for sitting on it). But the owner would have done good to scoop that thing up.

Which is the real reason I'm not getting a dog.  I'm probably not going to take care of it (Dogs aren't like fish.  You can't just leave them to die.  That would be inhumane.  But then...how come leaving a fish to die isn't inhumane, but leaving a dog to die is inhumane?  Life, life, life).  So...yeah.

Oh, and I'm going to get a Samsung Galaxy!  

*rcubed*




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