Talking Dogs, Tiny Lies and Masters of the Universe

dog thinking about the state of the world

Or, Who the Hell Do I Think I Am?

So, yeah, it’s true. The Pseudo-Husband and I talk to our dog. A lot.

More embarrassing, she talks to us, she leaves notes around the house, and at times even shares on Facebook.

Her only expensive vice (aside from that annoying tendency of hers to see the vet once a year)(meaning once so far, when she was 2 months old) is sending the occasional greeting card. Her taste is eerily similar to Bob’s, except that she limits herself to cards featuring canines. Makes sense, I guess. Her world view, and all.

Tipsy the dog thinks about talking

I am dog. I rule. Do I rule?

I always swore I’d never be one of those people who referred to the father of her children as Daddy. And I never did. I lived up to that promise. (That’s one promise I kept. And I’ve just set myself the goal of thinking of another before the decade’s end. Wish me luck.)

Back on point, though. So instead, I call the co-caretaker of our pup, “Daddy.”

Sitting at the biggest existing frickin’ iMac in the world (which I own because otherwise my one functioning eye glazes over and can’t read anymore after about 4 hours on a smaller computer), with Tipsy the Chihuahua hopping aboard the swinging hospital table that comprises my desk and holds said iMac, I often call out, “Daddy, call Tipsy! She wants to tell you what she did! She’s so good. What a dog!

No pitcher for ruler dog.

Daddy, aka Pseudo-Husband, then obligingly calls out, “Tipsy? What did you do? Come tell me, Tippy-Toe! What did my good girl do??

Tipsy runs to Daddy. Bonding in their mutual joy and basking in delight at her (non)accomplishment, both have been cheated and lied to. Tipsy thinks Daddy is offering a puppy treat. Daddy believes Tipsy has done something good. Because I said so.

But I lied. I simply wanted Tipsy off my desk and out from in front of my deluxe, jumbo-tron, million-color screen. They are both fools in the hands of a master. For I am evil.

So let’s tally up my finer points:

Tipsy's mom's finer points:

1. I lie to an innocent, hapless dog.

2. I lie to my (non)husband.

3. I misuse a hospital tray-table, because…

4. I am not in the hospital, I’m merely a little pain-prone. So…

5. I usually work in bed, which frankly is terribly, awfully lazy, even if it does help with pain.

6. Worse yet, I’m still frequently wearing a nightgown at suppertime.

7. No, this is worse: Sometimes I’m only then going to bed from the day before. And worst of all,

8. I call my dog’s co-parent “Daddy.”

9. And that’s awfully damn close to calling the father of my child (though I never had one) “Daddy.”

10. In fact, I’d say it’s just the same (other than species, and that’s minor).

talk to me says the dog

Talk to me?

And that leads me to the real point of this post, (which I didn’t realize until now, but it just may be this: My sole, single, only promise made and kept, as reported to you just moments ago, is broken.

Aw, crap. I feel so cheap. Yes, cheap and tawdry. Cheap, tawdry, and damn, I’m a big liar!

But what can I say? It’s who I am right now.

Now that’s just scary!

Hey. Talk to my dog here, alright? Can’t you see she’s a victim?

About Paula Lee Bright

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9 Responses to “Talking Dogs, Tiny Lies and Masters of the Universe”

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  1. Hey Paula, I am 56, so don’t feel alone! Masters Of The Universe was a favorite of my Son when he was a small child. I remember He Man and Skeletor :)
    Chris@Hillsborough County Restraining Order Blog recently posted..Love Is Blind – Trying To Break Bad RelationshipsMy ComLuv Profile

  2. Miller Finch says:

    Hey Paula, don’t feel bad about the nightgown — I’m still in my ‘pajamas’ of sweatpants all day if I don’t have to go out. I’ll even miss a shower from time to time!

    That’s what happens when you are in front of a computer all day. The time just escapes from you and you wonder why it’s dark outside again all of a sudden.

    I’ve been scheduling myself better so I do go out to meetings, lunches, etc. just so I can shower and dress and feel human!

    But no, I don’t talk to my dog. I talk to my kid to take the dog out — more of a shout actually…

    See ya!

    • Awww, Miller! You always make me feel better! Somehow I never pictured you as the jammies type. But too late! I do now. If your daughter is a great conversationalist and listens to all your ideas and opinions, and always agrees, then I wouldn’t talk to a dog either.

      Maybe that’s why the Tipster and I converse: she’s such an agreeable listener! She often even comments with sounds and vocalizations that sound, well, human! Without a daughter, I guess she’s the best I can do. She sure talks more than Bob does. ;D

      • Miller Finch says:

        The only way I get no argument is to talk to myself! My kid is a glass-half-empty type so when I propose ideas she always poo-poos them. She doesn’t yet have balls of steel like her mother! Ha!

        We do have intense, intimate you might say, conversations about the deep issues of life and her growing up. Our usual good spot is to just stay in the car after coming home and sit there and talk. It’s quiet with no distractions of dog, computer, etc. Perfect time to talk and be real.

        And yes, on rare occasions I will talk to the dog but only asking her if she has to go out. I am inevitably greeting with spinning in circles and running up and down the hallway. The house shakes from this 70 lb dog leaping like a ballerina! Geez!

        But your dog is nice and tiny and snuggly. You can get close to a dog like that vs. my beast of a dog. I’m sure Tipsy enjoys your conversations very much! Better to talk to a dog than an inanimate object!

  3. Bob says:

    It’s all about Tipsy! She even makes laptopping awkward, when such a tiny dog can occupy an entire lap!

  4. Love this! And it’s so true (see, you’re not a liar!). Whenever my cats want a treat, I say, “Ask Dad!”

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