DIVORCING YOUR PETS - Just $29 and A Year of Your Life



So, I just had a thought, which is a dangerous thing to do.  Some states, many states actually, require those looking to divorce to go through couple's therapy for a year before deciding to proceed with their marital split.  One - this seems like an obvious intercession by the government into the personal lives of its citizen masters, but two (and two is the most important) it seems like a really overburdening punishment for psychologists.  I mean, sure, psychologists are often some of the most screwed up people in our society and possibly deserving of federally-mandated torture, but really, is it fair to make them listen to obviously mismatched couples, named something like Daisy and Bruno, argue for a year over who is responsible for the bills or who keeps messing up the fringe on the oriental rug?  Or, who no longer wants to have sex in the shower?  Have you seen Daisy and Bruno?  No one wants to imagine them having sex, not even their yet-to-be-conceived child, who has an obvious self-interest in the situation.

So it got me to thinking again (*warning* *warning*) - what about man's best friend?  What about his cat who bites dinner party guests but is so sweet? Aren't these some of our most meaningful relationships? I mean, when Ethel down at the senior's home gets distressed, they bring in Rusty the Bassett Hound to cheer her up. They don't bring in Harold, her crusty old husband. He's got gout and wears diapers - not very cheerful.

What if the same one-year counseling requirement applied to human/pet splits?  I mean, you took the little shit in and started feeding it.  You think you're going to just drop it off at a shelter?  Or give it to the crazy cat lady next door with the man pants and the spittle connecting her lips when she talks?  Uh uh.  Nope.  It's time to start talking openly with your pets...to get to know what makes them tick, that they're ok and you're ok and why you're from Mars and they're from Venus.

Here's how I imagine it proceeding...

Psychologist: Bill, Fancy, we all know why we're here.  Fancy, let's start with you - how does your current relationship with Bill make you feel?

Fancy: (Hisses)

Bill:  See??? That's how she always is! I can't take it any more.  She does nothing but eat.  She destroys everything and now she's shitting on the floor! 

Psychologist:  Bill.  Bill! Calm down.  We're here to talk, not swat at each other.

Bill: I know doctor. I'm sorry. I'll try.  There used to be a time when I would rub behind her ears and she would put her paws on my chin. It was beautiful.

Psychologist: I know Bill. I'm hearing you.  I'm with you.  Be patient.  I want to get you back to that time when Fancy slept on your face. I promise.  Fancy, what do you think of Bill's openness just now?

Fancy: (Hisses)

And so on.

In the end, some of us will be lucky and patch things up over the ripped couch pillows, but some won't.  But those of us that aren't will fork over our $29 lawyer's fee and drop Fancy's fat little ass off at the ASPCA. Or with the cat lady.  But maybe not -- I think she eats them, but I cut her some slack because of the recession.  

It could be a good idea.  Maybe psychotherapy would improve as a result. I mean, God, if Fancy can get over Bill's hairlip and wandering eye, why can't Bruno and Daisy decide to split the chores?  Really?

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