Life with my husband's dog..

Okay, so it's been a little over a week now and "the dog" (otherwise known as Zoey) is actually doing all right. We may have to wait for the millenial reign for the dog and cats to lie down together without any ire, but at least for now they can co-exist in the same room without all the drama. Just so that no one gets their hopes up too high though- Zoey did decide to jump the fence Sunday morning, and we won't go through all the trouble of babysitting a dog every time it goes outside... so if she jumps again, she's gone. But so far today she's shown no inclination to do that. For everyone rooting for the dog... she's hanging in there!
I came to a realization this weekend. I think I actually like having a dog, and for one huge reason- it's someone else's responsibility! I never knew that having a living creature that was entirely someone else's problem could be so great! I've always been the one to have to take care of our cats and Aimee and everything around the house (not to say that David doesn't help!) and I've never had the freedom of knowing that when someone or something makes a mess, I don't have to clean it up. Well, that was brought home in a most disgusting way, and I'll probably have to repent for laughing about it and still not feeling a bit sorry, but here's what happened:
We loaded the dog in the car and decided to take about a 10 minute drive to a park we hadn't been to before so we could take a walk. About 3/4 of the way there, the dog is acting funny, and the next thing I know David is looking back and informing me that the dog just barfed. Normally this would be a horrible thing for me, because normally it would be something that I have to worry about. Not this time! I'm only slightly ashamed to admit that I actually laughed and said "it's your dog!" When we finally got to the park I gladly held the dog's leash as David scooped up the mess and disposed of it. It was then that it hit me- I don't mind having a dog at all... because it's not MY dog!