UberGrumpy: Why I Don’t Own A Dog

In which UberGrumpy gets a lodger. Or does he?

So Mrs G and I have a new lodger, Colin. Colin is a boisterous young feller and a great pleasure to have around the house; always friendly and cheerful, never a harsh word for anyone, easy-going and amenable, always up for a bit of exercise. But we’re conflicted about Colin. Why, you might ask?

Well, there is the odd drawback. Colin pays no rent. In fact, we had to pay to get him to come. We also pay for his food, drink, medicines, shampoo, toys (he likes toys), transportation, bedding and redecoration (he is surprisingly messy). He’s very willing to eat leftovers, including bones, which helps, but he is apparently eternally hungry. Youngsters eh? We were told he’d sleep anywhere, even in the kitchen, but in fact Colin is only really happy when he’s in our bed with us. Which is a novelty.

His conversation turns out to be very limited; we talk to him endlessly but replies are at best monosyllabic, and we’re beginning to think Colin doesn’t understand as much as his eager expression would indicate. He does fetch stuff, like shoes, and sticks, but it’s all a bit random to be honest. He also drools copiously on fetched things, so opening the post has become a bit of an ordeal.

Colin is also, alas, a stranger to plumbing. He never takes a shower, and is quite smelly. You get used to this, we’re told, but boy, does he hum.¹ We left him a toothbrush but he hasn’t used it; hasn’t even opened the box, although he has chewed it. Worst of all, he can’t use the loo. To be fair, he mostly waits to go outside for a poo. Mostly.² But once Colin’s out, he’s pretty brazen about where he goes. He seems to positively enjoy it. As for toilet paper? Forget it. He doesn’t even attempt to wipe.

Watching TV in the evening has become an embarrassing affair; Colin enjoys an hour or so of Netflix but then he gets distracted, and to our dismay, has taken to pleasuring himself on the rug, regardless of who’s in the house. I’ve never seen my poor old Mum blush so profoundly. In his defence, he is quite extraordinarily flexible. I am quite envious. Blowing your own trumpet takes on a whole new meaning.

So all in all, life with Colin has got a bit problematic. But we are undaunted, and will stick with him. After all, Colin is for life. Not just for Christmas.

(And for the avoidance of doubt, Colin is a complete fabrication. But you get the point. Right?)

1 - This is possibly made worse by his habit of rolling on other lodgers’ poo; that is, when he isn’t trying to hump other lodgers when we are out for a walk.
2 – Unless we fail to open the front door by 5:30 a.m., in which case it’s poomageddon all over the kitchen