I am guilty of several of these, but I won't tell which.




   You have a kiddie wading pool in the yard, but no small children. 

   Lintwheels are on your shopping list every week.

   You have baby gates permanently installed at strategic places
  around the house, but no babies.

   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.

   You refer to yourselves as Mommy and Daddy. 

   Your dog sleeps with you. 

   Poop has become a source of conversation for you and your
  significant other.

   You can't see out the passenger side of the windshield because there
  are nose-prints all over the inside. 

   You have 32 different names for your dog. Most make no sense, but 
  she understands. 

   Your dog eats cat poop, but you still let her kiss you (but not 
  immediately afterward, of course). 

   You like people who like your dog. You despise people who don't. 

   You carry dog biscuits in your purse or pocket at all times. 

   You talk about your dog the way other people talk about their kid. 

   You sign and send birthday/anniversary/Christmas cards from your 
  dog.

   You put an extra blanket on the bed so your dog can be 
  comfortable. 

   You'd rather stay home on Saturday night and cuddle your dog than 
  go to the movies with your sweetie. 

   You go to the pet supply store every Saturday because it's one of 
  the very few places that lets you bring your dog inside, and your 
  dog loves to go with you. 

   You open your purse, and that big bunch of baggies you use for 
  pick-ups pops out.

   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 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.

   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 license plate or license plate frame mentions your dog. 

   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 match your furniture/carpet/clothes to your dog. 

   You have your dog's picture on your office desk (but no one else's).

   You lecture people on responsible dog ownership every chance you 
  get. 

   You skip breakfast so you can walk your dog in the morning before 
  work. 

   You are the only idiot walking in the pouring rain because your dog 
  needs her walk. 

   You don't go to happy hours with co-workers any more because you 
  need to go home and see your dog. 

   Your friend's dog acts as Best Dog at your wedding.

   Your weekend activities are planned around taking your dog for a 
  hike (both days). 

   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...). 

   Your freezer contains more dog bones than anything else. 

   You never completely finish a piece of steak or chicken (so your dog
  gets a taste, too).

   You shovel a zigzag path in the back yard snow so your dog can 
  reach all her favorite spots.

   You avoid vacuuming the house as long as possible because your dog
  is afraid of the vacuum cleaner.

   You keep eating even after finding a dog hair in your pasta. 

   You make popcorn just to play catch with your dog. 

   You carry pictures of your dog in your wallet instead of pictures of
  your parents, siblings, significant other, or anyone else remotely 
  human.

   Your dog is the star of your World Wide Web site! 

   Your parents refer to your pet as their granddog.

   You hang around the dog section of your local bookstore. 

   Your jewelry box contains no jewels... just those fasteners from vari-kennels.

   Every time you read the name Bob, you think the guy's first name
  is Best of Breed.

   Your house isn't carpeted--the fuzzy furballs under your feet are 
  soft enough...

   Your hungry hubby comes home from work, lifts the cover of the 
  pan on the stove and says, "Is this people food or dog food?"

   Your hungry hubby once ate the dog food and asked for seconds.

   You don't give a second thought to using the brush you just used on 
  your dog to give a quick run through on your own hair.

   At your dinner parties, you always double check the butter before 
  putting it on the table.

   You put important papers in your latest issue of your breed 
  magazine you know you will find them there.

   You have dog hair stuck on tape on wrapped gifts.

   You have dog toys and treats in your briefcase.

   You have several albums filled with the 8 by 10 pictures of your 
  dogs but you can't locate any pictures of your kids to send to
  grandma.

   You show up at the car dealers with a ruler, to measure and see if 
  your big dog crate will fit. Before the actual purchase you make 
  the dealer cringe by insisting that you load both crates and dog 
  into the shinny, new vehicle to make sure it works!

   You can't get the groceries in the car because its
   A) already full of dog food 
   B) you have that big old crate in there.

   You visit relatives only if there is a dog show nearby.

   You remove all the seats from the van except the two in the
  front so you have room for crates...

   The passenger seat is full of dog stuff.

   You cringe at the price of food in the grocery store but think 
  nothing of the cost of dog food or treats.

   You have six squeaky hedgehogs... but only 1 with a squeaky that 
  works.

   You put popcorn in the clean dog dish for movie night.

   You pull out your credit card and little bits of liver are stuck
  to it...

   When you get your latest roll of film and there isn't a single
  picture of a two-legged person in it...

   People at work have stopped offering you their lint brushes; they
  realize it is a hopeless case.



  Author Unknown, Shared by Rosanne









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