My family has welcomed a new member to our home. He is my older brother’s dog. His name is Winston and he looks like this.
When my brother first got him, I was sure that my parents would dislike him. I was actually concerned they would chastise him for his investment and I made sure to let them know having a dog would be fun. Unfortunately, my parents have become insufferable in their love for this critter. My father carries around a picture of Winston on his phone and shows everyone: anyone from his clients and employees to the guy at the post office or the cashier at McDonald’s. I don’t even remember a time when my dad carried around those cheesy wallet photos of his kids.
Call me the jealous middle child. Objectively, this guy leaves a lot to be desired.
1) He will more than occasionally pee anywhere he wants to inside the house. (The last time I did this, I think I was beaten)
My parents get mad but then find this somewhat adorable. When he poos, he leaves about two large servings of chocolate soft serve that somebody else has to pick up. Occasionally, he wins a treat for pooing quickly and not stepping in it like a moron. I get into law school, the treat I get is a long speech about how I need to work harder than I ever did before to make the family proud.
2) He smells like a dog.
Now I am pretty sure I don’t smell like roses either but this guy smells like like warm gym socks. Even when he’s washed he still has this musty smell to him. Everything in the house smells like Winston now. Even if the smell dissipates, he finds a way to get his hair on everything. Thus everything I wear gets covered in dog fuzz.
3) He has terrible manners.
I leave some watermelon cut on the middle of the table while I am watching some TV. This guy jumps on the table while I am gone and eats half of it. You drop something on the floor, he will immediately grab it off the ground and then refuse to give it to you. He’ll sit there gnawing at whatever it is (remote control, book etc.) and not let go. Some sort of “I still haven’t graduated kindergarten or learned how to share” attitude. This macho, territorial stuff extends to the game of “Fetch”. It’s not really fetch. It’s I throw something, he chases it and grabs it, and then I spend the next 10 minutes tackling this dog, grabbing its mouth, trying to get whatever object out of his mouth.
The ninja farting (silent but deadly) is killer. He farts without any warning or noise that forces anyone near him to gasp for dear life.
4) He is lazy.
(he does this for most of his day)
When we take him outside he sits out in the sun. The idiot is unaware that he is incapable of handling long stretches of hot weather but at the same time is too lazy to move. Thus every single time he goes outside, he sits in the sun and starts panting not knowing what to do. I have to grab him and carry him back inside where he finally realizes he needs water to sustain his life.
(unwilling to move his body out of the sun)
Last week, I saw my mother carry in a huge pillow and a few chew toys in a bag. She was concerned that Winston might be a little lonely or uncomfortable. Yes, her actual son comes back from Korea after being away for almost 3 months and is greeted with a stack of bills he has yet to pay. Winston comes to stay at our home for a week and he gets all these little toys and prizes. When my parents call home, the conversation is something like this,
Mom/Dad: Is Winston OK? Did you feed him?
Me: He’s fine.
Mom/Dad: Why aren’t you playing with him?
Me: OK bye.
(his pillow is better than mine)
When I got back from Korea, I was stricken by a severe case of diarrhea, my parents were mostly nonplussed and peeved at my inability to do anything for that week. Winston, like a moron eats a small piece of unlit charcoal when I was grilling this week. My dad ends up massaging his stomach for the next hour concerned he might be in major pain. Every time he lays down, my parents now think he’s sick. I tell them he’s just being a fat bum. When his nose was running my mom rushed into my room asking me if she should give him a Tylenol cold…..
(he’s not sick, he’s just a bum)
Last week in the morning, my mom came into my room looking for something when she said, “윈스턴, 일어나” (Winston, wake up). I ignored this thinking she was referring to the dog when she repeated the statement. I realized Winston didn’t sleep in my room and deduced she was talking to me! “Oh wait, your name is not Winston. Hehehe.” my mom said, as she left the room.
I guess this serves as a reminder to me that when I have kids I should probably not take them to the grandparents, lest they become reckless sociopaths like Winston. I am the only one who punishes him for wrongdoing. I yelled at him for sitting on our couch and seats.
(he’s not supposed to sit there)
Afterward, all he did was sulk and got really sad. My parents don’t really punish him. They sort of half-yell and nudge him and then give him a treat or rub his belly. Thus I become the bad guy! As a result he just sulks and doesn’t do anything and frowns like this:
(his sulking face)
Not even mini-Winston cheers him up after getting punished. Instead he just waits for the parents to come and tell him everything is OK.
I know I am doing the right thing. I can’t be an enabler.