Monday I beat my wife home from work, a rare occurrence, and when she walked opened the front door she said “hey, how was your day?” in the most affectionate voice possible, to the dogs. She barely acknowledged me sitting in the living room with an obligatory “hey” thrown in my direction. It has been like this for the past couple of weeks since those rat shaped creatures came to live with us, and I’m not the least bit happy about it. I miss the good ol’ days where there was no living thing in the apartment competing for my wife’s attention, sure there was TV and books, but eventually she needed someone to talk to, and that’s where I, the husband was useful. With the addition of the dogs, my role as listener has been eliminated as she doesn’t have to pause for outside opinions or comments since animals can’t really talk back.
I’m being treated completely unfairly and I don’t know how to rectify the situation. I’ve tried acting more like the dogs, urinating on the living room floor, being extremely loud while she’s trying to sleep, and even spilling crumbs everywhere when I’m eating, but none of these things have worked. In fact, since I’ve tried to become more like the creatures that she loves unconditionally, my efforts have been met with nothing short of outrage. The dogs always let her know when they need to use the bathroom but when I make a point of sharing that information, I am met with a crinkled nose and often the three words “too much information.”
I’m not really sure what the problem is. I’m just as hairy, if not more so than the dogs, but my wife never seems to want to scratch my belly or comb the hair on my back. I’ve even tried to scratch her a few times, desperate for the love and attention that the dogs get for doing the same thing, but this is just met with a threat to call the police. I despise the day that the dogs came to live with us, but there is not much I can do about it at this point, and as much as I hate them, I would never do anything to harm them even though they have left me with these emotional scars. Sure, I’ve thought about leaving the door open and letting them wander out of my life forever, but with my luck my wife would somehow find the animals and be so happy to see them that she’d give them more attention than before. I am now the lesser being in the house, illustrated perfectly by the fact that when I returned home from work today I picked up dog poop off the floor while the dogs who committed the heinous crime looked at me with contempt from behind the chair. Replacing carpeting isn’t cheap I’m assuming so there goes the security deposit. Not only have the dogs stolen my wife’s affection from me, but they are also costing me my hard earned money. This is my life now.