Slobber & Drool

Today, being the last workday before Christmas, my employers hosted a kind of Christmas party at work. You know the kind, when only upper management gets to shirk responsibilities while everyone else continues slogging away. Well, it wasn't exactly like that, but there was food in the breakroom brought in by several of my coworkers, and the significan others of these same coworkers visited, bringing their appetites as well as their children.

My workplace is dog-friendly as well. One of the upper management women owns two dogs that are always present. The dogs stay with her at all times, following her from office, through store, to shipping room, back through store, to office again. This is something I'm not accustomed to.

Business was generally light this afternoon, which afforded the parents an opportunity to show off their babies throughout the building. At one point a customer came in for a lengthy period of business and asked if he could bring his bulldog puppy in also. He was welcomed to do so, and no less than a dozen people descended upon the animal to pet it & rub it's belly. It looked much larger than a puppy to me, however. This sudden halt of work was very much the same scene each time a different baby was brought in.

I had no desire to break from my work anytime a new drooler was paraded through. I realize that these children and puppies are cute, but I just don't see the fuss. These days I see dogs and babies as slobbering nuicanses. I may have gone too long in my life without a child. It's possible that 20 years without a dog has made me intolerant. In addition to my distain for the slobber, I really have no desire to hear barking or crying ever again. Both sounds top my list of the most annoying noises.

Now, I know I'm not too far gone. I love my three-year-old niece, and I will love my sister's new baby, due in May. I also have a soft spot for cats. Other people's children and dogs however... not so much. I hope I don't offend new parents, but don't expect me to talk baby talk to your child, and no, I don't want to hold the little tike. I offer my congratulations on the birth of your new baby or on adopting a mutt, but that's your bundle of joy, not mine. If they can't talk to me about music, movies, science or politics, I'm not interested stopping whatever I'm doing. Sorry.

And Merry Christmas to Kids from 18 to 92!