The Dog Whisperer

So I'm down in the basement shredding 8 years of paperwork with my handy dandy new paper shredder and I thought to myself, "Dang this is rather tedious. Why don't I turn on the tv and see what's playing on this sunny Saturday afternoon."

Not much.

After an hour or so of shredding about 18 trees worth of old bank statements, I switched the channel and discovered the Dog Whisperer. I've read one of his books that I should have just bought because it cost $13 in late fines at the local library, but that being another story for another blog about my tendency to put things off....well, heck. I guess that does kinda coincide with the whole 8 years of unshredded paperwork. Hmmm.

Back to the Dog Whisperer. Wow. I could use a few sessions with him. I'm thinking he could do a world of good for my kids. If I could get them to listen to me with just a look and hand gesture that doesn't involve a middle finger the world would be a happy place. For me.

The thing that bugs me about the show is he fixes the oddly neurotic dog (I mean, really, who would have ever thought a dog could have an eating disorder) in a fifteen minute segment. You have to listen really hard to catch the voice over of '21 days later' while you watch the now perfect dog being handed back over to its owner.

15 minutes fixes in my life amount to chocolate fixes, sugar fixes, salt fixes and swearing behind a locked bathroom door to relieve stress fixes. Perhaps I'm just bitter. But it does explain the 10 pounds I cannot seem to lose.

Maybe that's what I need.

The Mommy Whisperer. (I'm getting a wee bit excited just typing those words).

The Mommy Whisperer would have to be good looking. Duh. And have a dreamy, soothing voice. And be carrying liquor.

He could teach me patience when confronted by an irate 16 year old while a 2 year creates artwork on the wall. He could show me the honour in stretch marks up past my navel and in driving a 12 year old purple minivan. The Mommy Whisperer could teach me to reason with a 14 year old boy on the benefits of hygiene and help me to see the light in regards to my own diet and exercise.

He wouldn't leave until I was perfect and then he could hand me back to my family all shiny and wonderful. I'd bake cookies everyday that I didn't hoard and eat myself. I'd always have the laundry folded and cook wholesome and delicious meals that do not contain the food group of macaroni and cheese.

It's a dream. Or a nightmare. I'm not sure which.

But hey, if he brings liquor.......