Our pets can cause difficulties but also bring plenty of good

The idea started in the laundry room.

I’d just spent a good 10 minutes trying to wipe approximately

3.3 million dog hairs out of my washing machine. I’d gotten most of them, but static cling on the outside of the washer — and now the dryer — meant I was mostly wiping small piles of hair from one side to the other.

Life would be so much easier without a dog.

It was a thought that stunned me, but I let my mind wander through pet-free fields of fancy.

If I didn’t have a dog, I’d never have to sweep up this much hair. I could wear clothes that weren’t covered in shedded material.

The quilt on my bed and the upholstery on my favorite chair would not have little wet spots and stains caused by a little dog with a big tongue licking his paws and other body parts, and leaving little puddles of drool.

I could sleep anywhere I wanted on my bed, including right down the middle, instead of being shunted to the very edge by a Chihuahua that thinks the best spot on the bed is the one most inconvenient for me.

Without a dog, I wouldn’t have to walk in the cold and rain, and later, in the heat. I wouldn’t have to walk at all. I could just drive everywhere and save a fortune on shoes.

I wouldn’t have to apologize to visitors for the loud barking, or explain to the people who come to my door trying to sell me solar panels, a different cable service or concrete for my yard that no, I can’t shake their hand or even take their pamphlet because if they touch me or get too close, this growling, barking Chihuahua I’m struggling to hold in my arms will want to bite their faces off.

I wouldn’t have to make special trips to the vet to buy food that doesn’t upset his stomach, or try to ignore the eyes boring into me and the sad, pathetic looks aimed straight for my heart when I won’t give him any more treats for the day.

If I didn’t have a dog, I wouldn’t have to worry about those expensive visits to the vet, or lie awake nights, trying not to fall off the edge of the bed I’ve been allocated, worrying about his arthritic knees or his back problem or his recurring pancreatitis.

My house would be, mostly, hair free and uncluttered by the 2,396 toys that he has accumulated, although I have to take responsibility for spending all of my savings on those.

I would be free of poop bags.

If I didn’t have a dog, I could get a cat. Wait a minute, that’s not where this fantasy needs to go.

Without a dog, I could go sit in any chair I wanted without fear of sitting on him. I wouldn’t have to ask “Do you want out?” and then open the door so that he can step out and right back in. There would be no more trips to the groomers for nail trims that he refuses to let me perform.

Yep, life would be sweet without a dog. Sweetly miserable.

Forget the hair, the poop, the bed-hogging and the expense. Without a dog, there would be no one to treat me like I was the center of his universe, no one to give me kisses and cuddle on my lap, no one to play tug-ofwar with, to get me out of the house, even in the rain, and no one to walk around the neighborhood with and take in the world.

There would be no me without him.