You know you're a dog person when... (long)
I found this on a site. Sorry if it has been posted before, I did a search & couldn't find one exactly like this one (a lot that are similar though).
All dates must pass your dog's inspection
All of your clothes have dog hair on them, even when they come back from the laundromat or dry cleaners.
You get birthday cards for each of your dogs from family, friends, and the vet. (Bonus if you keep them on the refrigerator for more than a month.)
Every gift you ever get has something to do with dogs
Kiss your dog more than 10 times per greeting.
All your non-dog friends know to dress down when visiting your house
Books and movies are ruined for you if the dog references are incorrect.
Onlookers grimace at the sight of you sharing your sandwich with your four-legged pal, bite for bite
Call long distance and talk with your dog.
Dog hair in food is just another spice.
If you are cold, you put a sweater on your dog.
Any conversation you're having is effortlessly directed back to the topic of dogs
90 percent of your Internet connection time goes to the dogs (seeing what's
new when you enter your breed into the browser, reading up on multiple
lists, checking out photos, sounds and faqs, etc.).
All kinds of things around the house are in need of repair, but the injured
dog you rescued by the side of the road requires immediate surgery and out
comes the checkbook
All of your charitable donations go to dog-related and humane society
groups.
All of your furniture came to you second hand or via curbside discard, but
your dog crates are top of the line, industry premium.
All your social activities revolve around other dog people
Your voice is recognized by your vet's receptionist
And after 3 and a half hours of grooming you let that beautiful creature out
to go potty before bedtime and he turns and looks back at you, all clean and
pretty, he smiles a little smile that warms your heart so deeply that words
can never say. A picture you will remember forever. When the dog comes back
in you realize he has been rolling in the dead bird/squirrel you thought you
carefully buried that morning.
Anyone can look at your (pick all that apply) --- T-shirt - sweatshirt -
coffee mug - keychain - beach towel - cooking apron - couch throw - tote
bag - computer screen saver/wallpaper/mousepad/wristpad/monitor frame - gift
wrapping paper - photographic displays - calendars - refrigerator magnets -
weather vane - door mat - bumper stickers - umbrella - Christmas sweater -
socks - embroidery project - child's collection of stuffed animals - sheets
and bedspread - checks - checkbook covers - throw pillows - Home Pages ---
and know immediately that you are a dog lover, AND probably what particular
breed you favor.
At least three of your five weeks vacation are scheduled around grooming,
vaccinations and dental cleaning...all for the dogs!
City officials come to your home and say "Your dogs are barking." And you
can't figure out what the problem is.
Complete strangers call you on the phone to ask questions because they heard
you were a" dog person"
Cut your vacations to 3 day weekends only.
Dog crates double as chairs and/or tables in your family room
Everyone at the office is eager to know if the dogs are all right because you were late for the meeting
First time visitors wonder aloud: "Do you smell something?" and you really don't
In upstate New York this year, let's get out the map and see what else is
interesting in that area..." or "Let's go on a walking tour or Savannah so
we can bring the dogs along now what hotel chains allow dogs?")
Introduce your dog to the photographer and ask would you like to kiss fido
also.
It takes an entirely separate garbage can to handle the poop
It's easier to get a hairdresser's appointment for yourself than it is to
get one for your dog.
You are on an email list with other dog people and each
one of them feels like more than family.
Lintwheels are on your shopping list every week.
More than half your grocery money goes to dog food and treats
Most of your social life is with other dog people.
Most of your vacation pictures are of dogs around the world.
No matter how large your bed is, it is not large enough for you and your
dog(s).
No one wants to ride in your car because they know they'll get dog hair on
their clothes.
Nobody's feet are allowed on the furniture, but your dogs are welcome to
sleep on any piece they so choose
On your 1040 form all your charitable donations are to Humane Societies,
Shelters and Rescue groups.
On your Christmas list to 'Santa' you only want crooks, whistles, jumps,
doggie sweater, doggie 'gum ball machine', a place to have sheep, and oh
yes, the sheep.
One of your vet files is labeled "Other"
Order 250 Xmas photos of just the dog, no family in photos.
Order 5x7 photos of the kids and order 16 x20 of SPOT.
Overnight guests (who share your bed) are offended by having to sleep with
you and the dog(s)
Poop has become a source of conversation for you and your significant other.
Relative solidity of dog excrement is a suitable topic for discussion in
mixed company.
Tax rebates go to "the dog fund" or a spending spree through the supply
catalogs.
The cost of boarding your furkids equals that of your entire vacation
The dog's kibble is stored in 45 gallon garbage cans, and the water is kept
in a bucket with it's own drip tray under it. (Score extra if you have had a
water tap installed over the bucket to save time, or [for longhaired breeds]
if you keep a towel lying permanently on the floor to soak up drips and
squeegee around with your foot.)
The family's eye doctor is located in town, but the dog's ophthalmologist is
located a two-hour drive away.
The first question you ask when on a date is: "So, do you like animals?"
The guardians of your dogs will receive a larger amount of insurance policy
money than will all other members of your family, combined.
The highlight of your day is spending time with your dog.
The instructions to the dog kennel are longer than the instructions to the
house sitter.
The largest display of collectibles in the house is dog stuff -- plates,
photos, cards, etc.
The majority of your charitable contributions go to animal organizations
The most exciting times on vacations, no matter where in the world you go,
is when you get to pet a dog (a "canine fix").
The number one priority when buying a new house is the size and landscape of
the backyard
The only (or at least first) forum you log onto is the animal forum
The only thing your friends, colleagues, and passing acquaintances say to
you when they see you is, "How are the dogs?" or "How many dogs do you have
now?"
The only time you use your camper is for dog shows.
The part of the backyard you finish first is the dog run.
The part of your will dealing with your dogs is longer than any other part.
The sound of any liquid hitting the floor two rooms away at 3 a.m. Is enough
to launch you out of bed; but otherwise you can sleep through a ringing
telephone, the alarm clock, earthquake tremors, etc.
The thought of changing a baby's diaper makes you swoon, but you can pick up
dog poop barehanded, if necessary, without batting an eye
The total "poundage" of canines outweighs the total poundage of humans in
the household.
The trash basket is more or less permanently installed in the kitchen sink,
to keep the dog out of it while you're at work.
The whereabouts of all your important legal and personal documents escapes
you, yet you know precisely where to locate the file that includes all the
vet records, breed papers and registration
The word "bitch" becomes non-derogatory and flows naturally in most
conversations.
To win a precious $.75 show ribbon, you think nothing to forking out
hundreds of dollars to board/pet sit the other dogs, pay for entry fees,
gas, accommodations and meals
Vaccination and licensing records for all your dogs are in perfect order,
but your checkbook hasn't been balanced in months, and last year's tax
records are nowhere to be found.
When you need someone to talk to, your dog is your first choice.
While proudly showing off your family album, your guest asks, "Isn't there
anyone else in your family besides the dog?"
You and the dog come down with something like flu on the same day. Your dog
sees the vet while you settle for an over-the-counter remedy from the
drugstore.
You and your family haven't had your annual check up in two years, but the
dogs are all medically up to date
You are the only idiot out walking in the pouring rain, but your dog needs
her walk.
You are unbelievably pleased to receive a dog item (any dog item) as a
gift --especially from a "non-dog" friend. (They really cared even if it's
not your breed.)
You avoid vacuuming the house as long as possible because your dog is afraid
of the vacuum cleaner.
You become paranoid about keeping ID on your dog at all times (collar, tags,
microchip, tattoo), but don't bother to carry any ID yourself.
You become the family dog kennel for all your relatives
You believe every dog is a lap dog.
You believe it is your duty to talk to, pat, and even feed every dog in the
neighborhood. You know their names.
You believe there is no such thing as a naughty dog.
You break down and buy another pillow so you can have one to sleep on
You buy a $20.00 stuffed toy and within an hour you find toy stuffing all
over the yard. You and the dogs bow your heads in silent prayer.
You buy a bigger bed that will comfortably sleep six
You buy a mini-van to give them all enough travel room
You buy premium quality dog kibble for your dog, but live on take-out,
frozen pizza, and blue-box macaroni and cheese yourself.
You buy vitamin supplements for your dog and administer them daily (wrapped
in cheese if necessary), but consider yourself fortunate if you remember to
take your own more than twice a week.
You can only remember people by associating them with their dog
You can't fully enjoy yourself without your dog.
You can't remember family birthdays and anniversaries, but you can rattle
off a six generation pedigree with birthdates, health data and coat colors
at the drop of a hat.
You can't see out the passenger side of the windshield because there are
nose-prints all over the inside.
You carry dog biscuits in your purse or pocket at all times.
You carry pictures of your dog in your wallet instead of pictures of your
parents, siblings, significant other, or anyone else remotely human.
You carry plastic "pick-up" bags and an extra kennel lead in your purse,
pocket, and car at all times.
You celebrate dog events (new dog, dog birthday, finished championships,
etc.) by throwing catered parties with lots of people--but you ignore your
own birthday.
You change jobs so you can spend more time with the dogs.
You chirp, cluck, whistle, make kissy noises, and give "stay" and "heel"
commands to your car. (Bonus: if you do this and give the "beg" command to
your significant other.)
You consider dog crates to be an inspired form of interior decorating.
(Bonus: you use them as end tables in your living room.)
You decide to downsize from a huge house in the city to an average country
cottage with lots of land in order to build the kennel of your dreams
You describe your children as having temperaments rather than personalities
You don't go to happy hours with co-workers any more because you need to go
home and see your dog.
You don't mind it when you find dog hair in the sink, tub, embedded in the
carpet or your clothes, or mixed in your food. (Take an extra point if you
don't bother trying to remove the hair from your food--extra protein
right?).
You don't think it's the least bit strange to stand in the back yard
chirping "Meg, pee!" over and over again, while Meg tends to play and forget
what she's out there for (but what your neighbors think of your behavior is
yet another story).
You don't think twice about sitting on the floor because both the couch and
the chair are completely dog full
You don't think twice about trading licks of an ice cream cone with your
dog.
You don't work late or socialize after work because you have to get home to
take care of your dog.
You get an extra-long hose on your shower-massage just so you can use it to
wash your dog in the tub, without making the dog sit hip-deep in water.
You get so frustrated about the lack of cable TV in your area that you get a
satellite dish or direct feed so you can watch the Westminster Kennel Club
Show on the Madison Square Garden network.
You go to pet supply stores on weekends because it's one of the few places
you can take your dog. You take your dog for rides in the car; and treat him
to a drive-thru window burger at mcdonalds on special occasions.
You hang around the dog section of your local bookstore.
You hate posing for pictures unless you're with your dog.
You hate to go to the grocery store for people food, but when the dog treats
are gone, off you go with no hesitation, even at the busiest time.
You have *two* dog doors between the house and the fenced yard, so the
doggies can run circles, half inside, half outside.
You have 32 different names for your dog. Most make no sense, but the dog
understands them all.
You have a bad day and decide that your dog is the best "person" to talk it
over with.
You have a case of Summer's Eve disposable douche in the house for emergency
treatment of a skunk attack. (Extra points given if a male has picked this
up for you at the store.)
You have a picture of your dog in your wallet, but not one of your kids.
You have a plastic kiddie wading pool in the back yard, but no kids. (Double
points if you have a pool for each dog.)
You have extra dog collars and leashes on the walls, grooming tools on the
TV and sofa, dog beds strewn across all flat surfaces, kibble crud around
the base of your cabinets, chew toys everywhere, dog-fur dust rhinos
skidding across the carpet, and a long line of drips from the water bucket
to the living room across the hardwood floors--and you don't care. (Bonus
and automatic win if you have important company coming and you ignore all
the housekeeping in order to groom the dogs before company arrives.)
You have hundreds of pictures of your dogs on your desk at work, in your
wallet, etc., but none of your family or yourself.
You have kiddie gates permanently installed at strategic locations in the
house--but no kids.
You have nose prints on all glass surfaces--windows,
doors, inside the car, etc.--and you leave them there because cleaning them
seems so futile at this point.
You have little songs that you sing to your dog, and she always wags when
you sing, even though you can't carry a tune.
You have memorized the addresses of your breed association, local clubs, and
the AKC.
You have more dog beds, chew toys, collars, leashes, harnesses, and dog
crates than you have dogs (Bonus points if you've kept puppy collars, toys,
and crates for "the next one").
You have no reservations about kissing your dog on the lips, even when you
know where his lips have been.
You have three Home Pages -- all of them dealing with your dogs, your
friends' dogs, your dogs' friends, etc.
You have your dog talk to your friends on the phone.
You have your dog's picture on your office desk (but no one else's).
You justify the addition of a significant other in your life so you can have
someone around
to pet sit when you go away on business travel.
You justify the addition of a significant other in your life so you can have
someone to
hold the dogs when you're out walking in town and want to run into a store
to buy coffee or ice cream.
You justify the purchase of a larger vehicle or house because of the dogs.
You keep 2-liter bottles of water and a water dish in the car at all times.
You keep an extra water dish in your second-floor bedroom, in case your dog
gets thirsty at night (after all, her other dish is way down on the first
floor...).
You keep eating even after finding a dog hair in your pasta.
You keep license tags from dogs that have passed away.
You keep the heartworm medication in the refrigerator in the "deli drawer."
You know more about canine nutrition than human nutrition (and it shows).
You lecture people on responsible pet ownership and breed rescue whenever
you can.
You let the neighbor's dog sleep over.
You like people who like your dog. You despise people who don't.
You look at every poop in your yard before you pick it up making your
neighbors think you are weird. (What is even better is the looks on their
faces when you stuff the really fresh doodie into a plastic bag for safe
keeping until you can get to the vet's.)
You make popcorn just to play catch with your dog.
You match your furniture/carpet/clothes to your dog.
You meet other people with dogs, and remember their dog's call name after 30
seconds, but don't get the owner/handler's name until you've met them 2 or 3
times. (At which point you know the dog's registered name, lineage, show
history, and probably only the first name of the owner/handler. Last names
take 3-4 meetings unless you've heard about the people from other dog people
first.)
You meet someone when out walking your dogs and you introduce your dogs
first.
You never completely finish a piece of steak or chicken (so your dog gets a
taste, too).
You never think about how much money you spend on the dogs (or how much debt
you could reduce by not having them around).
You no longer have to buy extra large garbage bags, because the empty, 40
pound dog food bags work just as well
You often claim that it was love at first sight with you and your dog.
You open your purse, and that big bunch of baggies you use for pick-ups pops
out.
You order a tailor-made dog blanket to keep your aging dog warm, but don't
wear anything yourself that didn't come through a production line.
You pick up other dogs' excrement when you go on walks in your neighborhood.
You plan all vacations around dog activities/events. ("Well, our breed
specialty is in upstate New York this year, let's get out the map and see
what else is interesting in that area..." or "Let's go on a walking tour or
Savannah so we can bring the dogs along--now what hotel chains allow dogs?")
You politely bow out of an important social engagement so you can attend a
dog show
You put an extra blanket on the bed so your dog can be comfortable.
You reach into your pockets for change, and liver treats, dog kibble, and
pick-up bags fall all over. (Bonus: You've done this in a classy
establishment.)
You read a newspaper article by pieces in the front yard and don't think
there's anything strange about doing this.
You readily allow your dogs to give you slobbery kisses, but you don't dare
wipe a toddler's nose
You refer to yourselves as Mommy and Daddy.
You rip up the carpet and lay tile to make clean up so much easier
You run out of books to read on your breed/interest and hear about a new
book being released in another country. You call every person you know and
start to figure out exchange rates,query the Internet, etc. To obtain it.
Susan Conant's "Dog Lover Mysteries," however humorously told, sounds like
real life.
You rush to get home from work in time to get some of what your spouse is
fixing for the dogs, since s/he doesn't cook for you.
You save every dog magazine you've ever bought. If a conversation with your
family includes: "Are dogs all you *ever* think about? They are running your
life--all your money, time, friends, vacation, and holidays are spent with
the dogs. Even your house and car!!..." and you can still smile.
You save up for months before a specialty show in order to round out your
collection,
You send out especially-made holiday cards that feature you and the dogs
You shovel a zig-zag path in the back yard snow so your dog can reach all
her favorite spots.
You sign and send birthday/anniversary/Christmas cards from your dog.
You sit on the floor if the dog got in the chair first.
You skip breakfast so you can walk your dog in the morning before work.
You slipcover all the furniture in a complementary color to your dog to make
it easier to hide/remove the dog hair.
You snuggle closer to the dog than the person with whom you are sleeping
You spend a fortune to visit another country, and spend all your time
visiting kennels.
You spend more on clothes and food for your dog than you do for yourself.
You spend more time and effort grooming your dog than yourself. (And it
shows--your dog gets more compliments than you do.)
You spend more time looking through mail order catalogs for dog supplies
than for Victoria's Secret nighties.
You spend more time on the computer dealing with "dog stuff" than "other
stuff"
You stagger your dog magazine subscriptions to make sure you'll receive one
every week
You start barking at your children to "Sit! Stay!"
You take a sick day from work to take care of your dog.
You take bereavement leave when you dog dies.
You talk about your dog the way other people talk about their kid.
You talk to your dog when you are driving. He answers.
You think about saving all the fur from your dog's spring shed to have it
made into a sweater.
You use kennel disinfectant in the house.
You use your down payment for a new van to have cataract surgery on your old
dog and drive the van you have for 3 more years. (What good is a new van if
she can't see out the window?)
You wake in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and your feet hit
a wet spot. You look at the dog in bed with you and he looks at you like
"Not me!...Must have been one of the other dogs."
You watch simply awful movies because your breed is either featured in a
cameo scene or there's a 3-second camera shot during a crowd scene. (Bonus
points awarded if you move through the scene frame by frame or in slow
motion, or if you watch the rest of the movie.)
You'd rather stay home on Saturday night and cuddle your dog than go to the
movies with your sweetie.
You'll buy anything with your breed on it--even the mug with the Malamute on
it that looks like an anemic Siberian Husky, or the Greyhound keychain that
looks more like an IG. (Note: People owned by rare breeds are very
susceptible to this disease.)
Your "Welcome" sign has a dog on it.
Your bedspread doesn't have to coordinate with the bedroom, as it's always
covered with a sheet for the dogs, anyway. Ditto for the couches.
Your carpeting matches the color of your dog-purposely
Your children (wife, husband, etc.) Complain that you always take more
pictures of the dog than you do of them
Half your laundry is dog blankets, sheets, and beds. (Bonus: Your dog was
sick on them and you have to sneak into the local laundromat at midnight to
do the wash.)
Your cookie jar has never seen the likes of people cookies
Your desk proudly displays your canine family
Your dog brings a dead bird/squirrel into the kitchen and generously gives
it to you with a big smile. You say "For me? Thank you." and take it for
granted it is just another day.
Your dog decides he doesn't like someone and you tend to agree
Your dog does something wonderfully cute, and you call your friends to tell
them about it. (Bonus: The call is long distance, to a non-dog person, and
you keep them on the line for more than 2 hours.)
Your dog eats cat poop, but you still let her kiss you (but not immediately
afterward, of course).
Your dog gets a deep cut on the pad of his foot and gets emergency medical
attention at the vet; but you break your toes and settle for taping them
together with duct tape and taking some aspirin to kill the pain.
Your dog gets his coat stripped/trimmed more often than you get a hair cut.
Your dog gets his teeth brushed daily, scaled weekly, and dental cleaning at
the vet's every 6-12 months--and you can't remember your dentist's name.
Your dog gets regular checkups every 6 months, but you've lived in the state
for five years and don't have a doctor yourself. (Score double points on
this one if you have a reserve vet lined up for your dogs as well.)
Your dog gets sick and you sleep next to him in a sleeping bag in the
kitchen in case he needs to go out.
Your dog has the best birthday party over and above any kid in the entire
neighborhood
Your dog is getting old and arthritic, so you go buy lumber and build her a
small staircase so she can climb onto the bed by herself.
Your dog is the star of your World Wide Web site!
Your dog sleeps with you.
Your dog taught you to fetch and roll over
Your dogs eat only the most nutritionally sound food, while your favorite
meal is mac'n cheese
Your dogs have a larger wardrobe of holiday-related bandanas than you do.
Your dogs have their own Christmas card and gift list -- and they receive
cards and gifts in return.
Your dogs have their own Christmas tree -- and it's so full of ornaments
that they need a larger one.
Your e-mail address is your kennel name.
Your family has resigned themselves to the fact that you're bringing your
dog to all holiday gatherings (or you don't bother coming at all.)
Your favorite month is April - National Dog Appreciation Month!
Your file is the only one that remains in the "IN" box at the vet's office
Your file rivals War And Peace
Your first concern when planning a vacation is whether or not the hotel will
take pets
Your freezer contains more dog bones than anything else.
Your friend's dog acts as Best Dog at your wedding.
Your friends invite you to a fun night out at the dinner theater and you say
no because you would rather be home grooming your dogs. Or the new
subscription from a dog magazine came and you want to read it.
Your friends know which chair not to sit in
Your license plate, license-plate frame, or bumper sticker mentions your dog
or breed.
Your medications are available at the drug store down the block, but your
dog's medication has to be ordered from and shipped by a specialist.
Your mom calls and asks how the granddogs are
Your mood today depends on how yesterday's training session went.
Your Mother's Day (birthday, anniversary, etc.) Present is a puppy.
Your parents give up on grandchildren and start to refer to your dogs as
"your kids" or your children." (Bonus: they start to call them "our
granddogs.")
Your parents refer to your pet as their granddog, remember her birthday, and
send her greeting cards and gifts.
Your personal calendar has notations in it for heartworm medication, vaccine
and license renewals, obedience class, breed club meetings, local shows,
sale days at Cherrybrook, etc.--but few or no family events.
Your personal library is heavy on dog books -- and so is the library for
which you order books.
Your photo Christmas cards feature your dogs (humans optional).
Your spouse issues the ultimatum: "It's them or me!" and you have no problem
pointing out the suitcase
Your trunk has an emergency food kit for any strays you might come across
Your vet and grooming bills exceed your rent.
Your vet takes a few extra courses just to keep up with your breed's
assorted ailments
Your vet, back-up vet, emergency vet clinic, and obedience instructor are
all programmed speed dials on your telephone.
Your vet's office number is the first one on your speed dial list, his home
is number two
Your weekend activities are planned around taking your dog for a hike (both
days).
You're more concerned with the dogs' needs than your own when the budget
gets tight
You're more familiar with dog laws than you are with people laws
You're willing to drive an hour in a snowstorm to make it to obedience
class, but can't be bothered to drive the 30 minutes to a friend's house for
dinner or to visit.
You're willing to pet sit, but not baby sit for friends.
You've conducted a taste test for dog kibble by buying multiple brands of
food and evaluating your dog's interest in each one. (Extra points if you
made a party out of it and invited other friends and their dogs over. Or
tasted it yourself.)
You've considered moving into the kennel since it's cleaner than your house.
You've had long meaningful discussions with your friends on the best way to
trim your dog's nails, but have never had a manicure or pedicure in your
lifetime.
You've just spent $60 on groceries and realize none of it is for yourself.
You've memorized the vet's phone number. (Bonus points if you have his home
phone memorized as well.)
You've memorized you dog's pedigree at least 5 generations back (including
coat colors, kennels, and personality descriptions)--but know next to
nothing about your own parentage.
You've traced your dog's family tree further than you have your own
