Packing on the dog pounds

My week has been consumed by two things: my five pound weight gain and my room-mate-who-is-no-longer-my-room-mate-but-can’t-seem-to-move-on-and-get-out-of-my-life. I’m sure there is a connection between the two.

On Monday, my room mate’s dog, the dog he left behind when he moved to Sweden but he swears he’s picking up in three months, ran away. There is a low fence behind some bushes and Winston jumped it. Normally, when Roomo was with the dog, they were inseparable. The dog was supervised and couldn't get away. My idea of a dog is that, while wonderful and loving, the pooch is also kinda like house furniture. You take care of it, but you shouldn’t have to give it so much attention.

So the dog catcher got him. That’s when I found out that Winston was never registered with the city and doesn’t have any of the required vaccinations. It’s weird - Roomo doted on that dog, but not enough to make sure he was legal or healthy - or that he wouldn’t present an incredible burden when he abandoned the dog and moved to another continent.

The animal control people decided that the $500 citations should be written out to my room mate. A person they view as miserably irresponsible. The dog has ten days to get compliant or they take him to county and we all know what that means.

I got a note from room mate where he bemoaned his fate. He couldn’t believe the dog had become such a problem - for him! He said he would do what he could from far away to help me. I sent him back note. No, no - I don’t need help. You need to find a way to get your dog taken care of since vet visits and city registrations are not part of my gig. I only agreed to let him stay here for three months. Let me know what you are going to do to get compliant. They will pick up the dog in 9 days and the clock is ticking.

So I’m going to have a bowl of ice cream and not think about it.