My wife thinks I hate animals. Whenever the kids ask for more pets my wife instinctively goes, “Your father won’t like it.” And I make a big show about being annoyed.
Ive been lying for my entire relationship. It started when I was dating my wife, and she made a big deal about how her dog hates strangers. So during the initial visit, I hid treats in my pockets. The dog saw me as a magical snack fairy. My wife was amazed and I scored some points with her.
Over time, the dog loved me more. Then we got two kittens. She had to leave while I worked at home, and the kittens saw me as their owner. By the third year, all the animals snuggled with me while my wife would sit alone on the empty side of the sofa. And she’d feel jealousy and sadness.
So Ive started to make a fuss about the pets. Id move them off of me. I’d ignore them. I shoo them away if they were too close. Over the years, they went towards my wife (and then kids) for affection. And as we got more pets, it kept happening. Two dogs and five cats over fifteen years. They’d all start with giving only me affection until I train them to latch on to another.
It doesnt bother me to be the bad guy, if my family can be the good guys. And I still give them affection/pets when nobody is around.
Tl;Dr: animals love me but that makes members of my family jealous, so I have to lie and pretend I hate them.
That’s probably pretty confusing for the pets.
They’re fine, especially if they’re cats - manipulative, vindictive little assholes. One of mine loves my husband more.
Yeah, you look your emotionally under baked family in their doo doo green eyes and tell them to “get gud”. You don’t make your pets like you less.
When I was married, my wife desperately wanted a shih tzu puppy. I spent months trying to find one at the adoption facilities, checking their websites everyday, until one day, one popped up. His name was teddy. Just the cutest little floofball you ever saw. And the adoption rules were the first person who showed up, who wanted him, and could pay the fee, would get him. The facility opened at 9AM, I was waiting outside the door, in Colorado winter, starting at 5AM. Had a warm coat, thermos of hot coffee, I was a man with a purpose. One by one people would show up, and I’d tell them, you’re behind me. Soon there was a line, and as each new comer would show up, I’d say “the line starts with me, and goes to him, her, him… and then you.”
Place opened up, I’m first in line, first to the counter, I say “I’d like to adopt Teddy please.” The guy at the counter looks at me, looks at the line, and says “Are all y’all here to adopt Teddy?” to which they reply, yes. So he says, well, by show of hands, who thinks we should do a raffle of all your names, and whoever gets picked gets to adopt Teddy?" They all, of course, raise their hands, with myself being the lone frustrated dissenter. Sure enough, he takes all our names, puts them in a hat, and draws the name of the lady who got their fucking LAST. I was furious. Waited for hours out in the cold, just for this jerk behind the counter to change the adoption rules on a whim. All that effort, just to get the shaft before having to go into work (yeah I did all that right before working a 12 hour shift).
Anyway, that’s another story.
So after that, I said screw the adoption facilities, and went to craigslist. One day, after another couple months of looking, find a litter of Yorkshire Terriers. Decided to go for it. I even trick the wife into coming with me (told her I wanted her help loading a free recliner into the truck), I go into the house, give the lady $200, and from the litter of 4-5, the teeniest little munchkin isn’t afraid, comes right up and gives me the tiniest “awoo!” I pick her immediately, bring her to the car, wife holds her the whole ride back, a shivering, flea covered poofball.
Now I grew up with dogs, but every dog I ever had was a big one. Mastiff, Cane Corso Mastiff, Pit mix, Doberman, Rhodesian Ridgeback, my Mom and Dad were all about dogs that could protect us. So I never really gave the yorkie the time of day, and after all, she was for my wife! But dang, did that yorkie bond with me. Tilly (short for Attilla the Bun) was all about nestling inside the crook of my arm while we watched TV, and she’d clamor about my feet until I’d pick her up and sit her on my lap while I scrolled the internet. I couldn’t help but fall for her. I ended up having to do the same thing you did, push her away, and ignore her till she would take up with the wife.
Made the divorce even harder, because I knew my (now) ex would need her puppy to help her through the transition, I didn’t consider keeping them apart for an instant. The day came when she had all her stuff packed up, I took Tilly on one last walk, let her lead the whole way (she strode right past the house where the three pitbulls that attacked her lived - thank goodness I was there at the time to get her away from them - she was so brave- thinking about her in that moment helps me find my courage some days still), then took her to the big green field and threw her ball to her hearts content. It was really hard seeing her go. I have a video of her I took that day I haven’t been able to watch.
Year or so later, the ex and I are amicable, I ask if I can see Tilly, but she won’t let me. Apparently Tilly fell into a depression after leaving me. Wouldn’t play or eat or cuddle for weeks. I miss her. I never thought I could enjoy a little dog, but that rambunctious, opinionated, courageous little puppy stole my heart, and she’ll forever have a place in it.
Hilarious reason to lie to your family for years
