Poor me. Poor, precious little Mr. Muggles. That’s how Mother put it. And I couldn’t agree more. I’m officially a statistic, another innocent child trying to survive in a broken home.
With the oldest, Claire, off to college, and Lyle doing whatever it is Lyle does (nobody ever notices him or cares anyway), it’s just Mother and I left to fend for ourselves. That’s right. No more Father.
He didn’t die. Again. No, this time it’s far worse. He….he….I can barely say it….he left us. I suppose it’s my fault, really. I never appreciated him. He was just some mysterious man in a suit that stole Mother’s attention away from me on occasion. It wasn’t until he was gone for good that I realized how important he was to this family.
“Oh, my,” Mother exclaimed, “I don’t know what happened to Mr. Muggles’ doggie bath. I swear, it must have grown legs and walked out of here. I just can’t find it anywhere!”
She never could find anything. That’s what Father was for, always reminding her of the important things that this family depended on, like doggie baths and potassium. It’s been over four weeks since I’ve had a proper grooming, and who knows the last time a banana has entered this house. How is a champion show dog expected to survive in these conditions?
And then she has these strange men over. “Thanks for fixing the water dispenser, Roy.”
“No, problemo,” the so-called dude replied on his way out.
“Wait just a moment,” Mother called out. “You know…there’s this new TV show on called Cougar Town. Have you seen it?”
Roy scratched his head, “Nope. I only watch MTV. Love the tunage!”
As if MTV played tunage anymore.
The phone rang, and Roy answered. “Some guy asking for Sandra,” he said handing it to Mother. With that, he left to go solve other needy middle-aged women’s plumbing problems, much to Mother’s dismay.
I barked to get Mother’s attention. My bowl laid empty on the floor. With a competition coming up soon, I was in serious need of potassium to help make my coat shine its brightest. But did Mother care? No.
She ignored me. “I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong? Maybe I’ll go visit Claire. I wonder if college guys like Kool-Aid….” she trailed off as she began searching through the cabinets.
Moments later we arrived on campus with a tray full of oatmeal raisin cookies and a jug of sweet tea. “I think I’ll just set up here,” she said noticing the sign that read Football Try-outs, 4:00 pm.
“Ugh, mom! What are you, like, doing?” Claire asked as she stomped over to us.
“You know. I’m just trying to be here to support you,” she offered Claire a cookie. “Losing a close, dear friend can be tough.”
“We weren’t close, and I’m cool with it now anyway,” Claire replied. “No, like, seriously, don’t embarrass me, or I’ll have to throw myself out a window.”
Claire’s always so dramatic. I’m the one who still hasn’t been fed, and she’s pouting about being embarrassed in front of all these people who already think she’s some crazy murderer. You can’t leave a dead schoolmate everywhere you go and not expect people to raise eyebrows.
I on the other hand have no malicious rumors circulating about me. I couldn’t afford it. The show life is a tough one. Rumored murder would be the death of me. I’d have to kill anyone who thought I was a murderer.
Lyle had to learn that the hard way. I mean, everyone knows I’m a sweet, compassionate Pomeranian without a bad bone in my cute, little body.
