Please God

               Daddy woke up this morning, walked me as usual and I sniffed the usual tree, marked it, and emptied my bowels. Daddy picked it up, as usual, and put it in the trash in the garage (Mommy wouldn’t let him put it in the kitchen trash because she said, “It stinks”. They argue sometimes, but they love each other and love me. Then, Daddy told me to do the usual tricks (beg, sit, paw, roll-over, put head in yes and no), then Daddy gave me a treat and put me on the bed, and I started to sleep. Then, Daddy went on the treadmill (as usual) and listened to Green Day’s “Brain-Stew Jaded,” loud. Then, because Daddy was loud, Mommy woke, but she didn’t turn on the TV or pet me, the way she usually does. Instead, she looks at Daddy. Then, after running, Daddy turns off the music, puts the treadmill up, and Daddy gets on the computer, opens up a program, and starts working on whatever the hell Daddy works on every morning while Mommy’s asleep. Then, Daddy studies something and says something weird: “We do not believe Jesus is the Son of God or in a Virgin birth. We believe Mary and Joseph had sex and Mary gave birth to Jesus. We believe Jesus understood natural law and all of his teachings were done under natural law. He demonstrated mediumship, prophecy, and healing”. Then, Mommy asked, “What the hell? Jesus died for your sins and this is the thanks. He died on the cross for your sins. Yours”. Then, Daddy, instead of saying what he was supposed to say (which was “Yes, dear”), explains to Mommy about natural law and then, Mommy and Daddy start.

               Everyone thinks it’s easy being a dog. Someone always feeds us, walks us, plays with us, but we love our humans like no one else. And just like parents with kids, I’m not supposed to have a favorite, but I prefer Mommy over Daddy. But, I wish we could do a three way hug and be happy again, but it isn’t happening the way I want”.

               Daddy’s cell phone alarm goes off, and he starts doing planking and crab walking, but they’re still arguing while he’s working out. Mommy’s talking about the Bible and has gotten out her Bible and is reading it to Daddy and it’s like they’re not listening to each other. Mommy’s saying what Mommy’s saying and believing what Mommy believes and Daddy’s saying what Daddy’s saying and what Daddy believes. This isn’t the first argument they’ve had. The worst one so far was when Daddy stepped on Mommy’s eyeglasses. The apartment was a psychological warzone for a week. But, what scares me is the frequency of the arguments. They used to argue about once a month, but it’s been crescendoing. It started being twice a month, then three times a month. Once, Daddy spoke to me alone and said the three things couples argue about the most are money, in-laws, and sex. Lately, they’ve been arguing more about money and rent. Mommy cries sometimes at night and I lick her tears (it’s yummy) and she says she’ll never give me up and she’ll starve first. But, for today, we all have enough food, but they’re still arguing about religion. Still, I used to enjoy the taste of the other fluids from their body, but they’ve been doing what animals do less and less and arguing more. Daddy keeps entering something called PCH and they both pray. They pray to different Gods, but they both pray. And that’s why they’re arguing. Daddy thinks natural laws and happiness will give them more money for rent and Mommy thinks Jesus Christ (she calls Him JC) will give them something called “a miracle” which Daddy calls “A supernatural or supernormal event. A deviation or suspension for some reason of natural law with the subsequent production of a wonderful act”. I just wish they would be happy together and we could watch NBC Nightly News and Jeopardy tonight while both of them pet me. Mommy bought some lottery tickets and said not to tell Daddy since then Daddy would be upset she threw money away, unless she won. But, they both work. They both work different jobs and work hard at their different jobs. They’re still arguing as Daddy draws his bath and goes into his meditation room. Mommy’s on the couch crying and I lick up her yummy tears. Then, Daddy gets in the tub, listens to more loud rock music, comes out, dries himself, and washes-up. He puts on his scrubs for his CNA job. Mommy says the least Daddy can do is take out the trash, so he does and puts in new trash bags. Daddy’s ride comes and I get in the car, along with Daddy’s bookbag and white bag. He looks sad and I feel like rotten dog food. I’ve seen Mommy ask neighbors for more dog food for me with tears. She never told Daddy that though and Mommy and Daddy don’t understand my language. Though, Mommy understands my language more than Daddy does. 

               Us dogs don’t cry when we’re sad. We whimper, we put our tails between our legs, but we don’t cry. We only cry when there’s something stuck in our eye(s) that won’t come out. The vet (I don’t like going to the vet) is the only one who seems to understand what’s going on with me. He (the vet) gives me pills and even though I hate the pills they help. I wish Mommy and Daddy’s vet would give them medication that would help them stop arguing. See, us dogs mirror the emotions of our owners. So, when they feel happy, we feel happy. When the dig, I dig, etc. Lately, I’ve been feeling insecure, stressed, and depressed. I wish Mommy and Daddy would be a contestant on Jeopardy and win money so the Family Feuds would stop. 

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               We get to work and I bark at everyone who comes in since the bell chimes when the door opens. Daddys tells me to “shut the hell up” as usual, but meaner than usual. He then drops some Dominoes on the floor, curses, and picks the Dominoes up. I curl up into a ball on the couch Daddy put me on and try to hide under a blanket, but I can still hear Daddy and Daddy’s voice starts to crack and he cries, whimpers, and his face turns red. He gets out his cellphone and calls (Mommy) and leaves a message: “Hi Sweetheart. I’m sorry I upset you this morning. Please give me a call back,” but throughout the day, Daddy checks his phone and there’s no messages. Daddy prays to his God, over and over, the way Mommy does her rosary, but Mommy doesn’t pray or call back. Mommy picks us up from the Center at 4:30 pm and I hope she’ll be here at 4:30 pm and so does Daddy, so I pray too. I pray that Mommy and Daddy stay together and agree to disagree or that Mommy and Daddy’s Gods become the same God. Or anything to make them stop arguing. Please God.