You're In the Jungle, Baby!

Yesterday, I was looking at this website and a co-worker saw what I was looking at and exclaimed, "That's dumb!"

Silly, yes. Over the top? Maybe. But dumb?

What's dumb about website dedicated to posting hilarious and adorable photos and video of animals? Have you been on the internet lately? Do we really need to talk about the myriad of sites available and the ridiculous topics to which they are devoted? I think you're dumb.

I've given it some thought, and I think at the ripe age of 31, I've made an important self-discovery: If you do not like animals, we can not be friends. Something is fundamentally wrong (dare I say evil?) with harboring a general disdain for other living things. Perhaps you prefer not to have pets or spend time with animals. Fine. I think you're a little nutty, but hey, I respect your personal preference. The keyword is "respect." Lest we forget we're merely animals ourselves.

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Now that I've made my epiphanic declaration, let's discuss the downsides of pet ownership.

No sooner had we finished cleaning up bloody pee for a week straight, then my other dog began pooping ALL OVER THE HOUSE on a near daily basis. The reason I know it is my beloved German shepherd, Gina, is because she has the unique habit of walking while she poops, as though she's leaving a trail of breadcrumbs through the forest, only the forest is my yard and driveway (our mailman undoubtedly hates us), and now my home. Unlike Zoe, who squats still, like a normal dog. I come home each night to find a trail of turds leading from the couch in the living room through the kitchen and into our bedroom. Recently, she's begun urinating in the house as well. I don't know if this is because their food was switched during the whole UTI fiasco, if it's simply old age or if this is an effect from the prednisone, but I intend to call our vet and ask what the fuck.

Meanwhile, as we're cleaning up feces and opening windows (hey, wanna come over?), the felines are stepping gingerly around turds the size of their heads, seating themselves on a nearby perch so they can stare and occasionally blink disgustedly at us, as if they've never seen such filth.

As if to ask, "Surely you don't expect us to cover this up?"

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