No one told me that the dog would wake me up in wee hours of the morning to go outside. No one told me that I'd wake to a 100+ pound brindle beast bouncing the mattress with her front paws while snorting. No one told me that once that wench was ready to come back in from the 10 degree air, that her male counterpart would come rushing from behind me to charge outside as well, so that I could stand there unendingly wondering where the stupid little shit could possibly be hiding in that tiny yard. Is it possibly that my wife is so sweet that she dealt with this every morning for the four years we've had these dogs and never complained? Or could this be a small piece of some larger, more elaborate scheme on her part, knowing that someday she'd be called away and I'd be the one left dealing with this nonsense? This is the kicker: WE HAVE A FUCKING DOGGY DOOR. USE IT!
The second kicker: It's snowing here, but in several hours JustRobert and his wife will be sitting on a sun-warmed veranda, sipping margaritas while having their feet rubbed by a pair of scantly clad Mexican twins who could pass as Salma Hayek's little sisters.
Oh Karma, you're an angry mistress.