Two hundred years after the War of 1812 another equally important war was declared. The War of 2012 is a little known war that recently took place in small town sort-of-Southern-feels-like-uninhabited-wilderness-compared-to-the-great-city-of-Toronto-and-surrounding-area Ontario.
A woman and a man unwittingly conceived a giant fetus of the male variety in February. In preparation for his arrival the woman (with permission from the man, although he denies it to this day) acquired a giant puppy dog from a farm. She figured the pup would keep her company during the long days when the man was at work, and teach her to deal with all of the pleasant things that come with child-rearing, such as potty accidents, projectile vomiting, constant whining and separation anxiety.
Of course, something else that happens to new parents (and all parents I’m sure) is that they develop a whole new set of child-related worries. This pair worried about very different things. She worried about things like car accidents and second and third-hand smoke. He worried that the puppy was going to eat the baby.
The woman liked it when the puppy slept at the foot of their bed. It gave her a sense of comfort. Mostly the comfort that she would not awaken to a kennel full of dog poop or vomit. Since she wasn’t sleeping much in those days, due to being mauled from the inside by the giant fetus, she could hear if the puppy was getting ill in the night and everyone knows that it’s much easier to deal with as it’s happening, not hours after the fact. The man was convinced that if the the dog were allowed to sleep in their room, she would pounce on the baby in the night and eat him.
As much as the woman liked to make fun of this, she acknowledged that it is probably better not to have the dog sleep in the same room as the baby, because even though she is more like a fluffy bunny than a mountain lion, you do never know. She wouldn’t eat the baby, but she may jump up on the bed randomly some night (although she doesn’t do this now) and accidentally maul one or all of the family members in her quest for love and nighttime cuddles.
This brings the tale to the present. The last two nights the woman has conceded (basically, she lost the war… le sigh) and allowed the man to lock the dog in her kennel for the night. The first night was uneventful, although the woman caved and let the dog out of the kennel at 4am so that she could have company in her insomniatic (<- apparently this is not a word) state. Last night she did plead with him to allow the fur monster to once more share their room, but he remained cold and unmoved. She cried, tore at her hair, tore at his hair and beat her hands relentlessly on his chest. Actually, she just tried to put on her best sad eyes and pouty lips, but it didn’t work. The man asked, “What if the giant fetus is allergic to dogs?”, and pointed out that the woman had already violated the one rule they’d made about keeping the dog out of the soon-to-be baby’s room. How the hizzle did he know that the dog had been helping her set up the crib by attempting to eat their unborn son’s first teddy bear (it bears repeating here that although the dog did grab the teddy by the face, she has never ever ever bitten a human being)?
Knowing that she could not win, the woman let the man lock the dog in her kennel again. They fell asleep entangled in a lover’s embrace. BAHAHAH. That did not happen. He fell asleep and she then pried the remote out of his hands. He rolled over and began to snore as she watched the excitement that is the Jeopardy Teen Tournament and felt proud of herself for knowing more than 75% of the answers. Next thing she knew it was 2am and the puppy was whining… at the foot of their bed. The woman felt very spooked because she had watched the man lock the kennel. Had she sleepwalked and released her? Had someone broken into the house, stole nothing and released the dog? Was there a puppy freeing ghost lurking in the shadows? Had the dog grown opposable thumbs? Or maybe opposable thumbs are just overrated and the dog is a genius…
The woman blearily stumbled down the stairs, dog in tow, and locked her back in the kennel. She then returned to bed and lay awake feeling spooked for about an hour, wondering if the ghost of some crazed anti-kennel training PETA activist was plotting to attack once she’d fallen asleep once more.
The War of 2012 will go down in the history books as being won by the man. The woman will likely have this rubbed in her face from now until death parts them. The baby will likely be told the tale ad nauseam by his father. The woman, however, will always remember the night that the dog escaped her confines and will know that the real winner of this war was the dog, opposable thumbs be damned.