Dogs are cool and stuff when they don't poop on you

I'm dog-sitting for friends this week for 2 beagles, aged 2 and 4. They aren't that great on leashes or not crapping on furniture and peeing all over the house. Otherwise, they're good boys. One of them once jumped up on the kitchen counter, ate a whole loaf of freshly-baked banana bread and then pooped three times directly on the counter. I didn't have to clean this mess and it didn't happen on my watch, but I was upset about it because I had planned on eating some of that banana bread.

My sleep isn't as restful as it generally is with Ruth Bader Catsburg because her mannerisms are fairly quiet. For example, I had a hard time falling asleep last night because one of the beagles jumped into bed next to my head and loudly began gorging on his own testicles for a twenty minute sloppy feast. At around 4:30 this morning, they whined and grunted until I got out of bed and took them for a walk. That sucked.

Ruth conveniently poops in a box of sand. I admit that she occasionally gets bored and bats a turd around the kitchen floor for a laugh, but otherwise, she doesn't make too much noise and doesn't make too many demands. The beagles constantly steal my wine and coffee, scream at people on the street while I'm taking a nap and hump one another vigorously while I'm trying to watch cartoons.

Dogs are great and lovable, but they're a lot of work. I mean, at least they don't go to college or talk back or borrow the car, so they are still better than having babies, but I'm exhausted. I spend a lot of time with these two and even filled in at one of their training classes. We practiced sit, paw and stay - but not 'don't poop on the sofa.' I think that's in the extended series. They might have been the oldest dogs in the class and it felt very Billy Madison-esque.

Bed hogs: