Ruff Responsibilities

I have a dog again. I guess I kind of always did but we haven’t lived together since he was about a half year old. He’s probably around 8 years old now.

My roommates (parents) went out of town this weekend. I moved back last weekend. They already needed a weekend away from me. And while they were gone, I was very aware that I had a dog again. 

These things take responsibility. They wake you up. They need to be fed. They need to be let out. They need to be walked. It’s a whole new routine that my life hasn’t had. 

My dog was uncomfortable about my parents being out of town.

So he didn’t sleep.

So I didn’t sleep.

Ozzie was cuter when he was my parent’s dog. Back when he was 0.5 years old. And I wasn’t responsible for his well being and doggie paranoia about my parents’ absence.

So I played mom. I took Ozzie on a walk. 

Is it really Oswald? 

I think he’s named after Ozzie Guillen. 

Or maybe Ozzie Osborn? After all, he was the prince of darkness last night.

Sometimes he’s just Oz.
Or “the Oz-man.” Which makes no sense really. If he was Oz-man he wouldn’t need a mom.

Shouldn’t “mothers” know their own dog’s names?

So I played mom. We walked. I thought I’d get more exercise out of it. Let’s be honest. Stopping at every tree is not exercise. Let alone curb, park bench, fire hydrant.

And while “playing” mama murph I did a very mama murph thing. I picked up that McDonalds bag that landed on someone’s parkway after a Friday night. 

So here I am walking in exercise gear, not getting exercise, carrying a McDonalds bag rattling with an empty apple pie box inside. 

And as much as I’m joking about this, it felt good to play “mom.” You know, cleaning up the world, fertilizing the grass, moving. 

After all, I have friends that call me Murph-dog. Or is it Murph-dawg? Which makes no sense really. Except in college-the morning after a “McDonalds” night when I felt gross, like I needed to get it out of me, and my best friend would say “uh oh. Murph needs to be walked.”

Who knows, right before the McDonalds runs back in the college days, I may have even fertilized the lawn. At a house party. Probably acting like I was 0.5 years old. And needing a mom.

…Or a dog-to keep me from staying out too late. To make me responsible.