Toilet paper and puppy bunkers
Puppies are the new toilet paper of the pandemic. The overnight sensations in the latest craze of inexplicable pandemic hoarding. Their sudden coveted status has jacked up the puppy prices so much it’ll make you barf your mask. And just like at the beginning of the pandemic when I would roll my eyes at the survivalists hoarding toilet paper in their Covid bunkers, I now openly scoff at the puppy hoarders. Yet secretly, it used to keep me up at night wondering: what if Cottonelle actually became the official currency of our dystopian future? What if, by refusing to bulk-buy toilet paper at Costco, I am somehow compromising my family’s very survival by neglecting their anal hygiene? Would they be refused entry into the protected City of Pristine Anuses? Forced to sleep outside its walls, huddled, shivering, and itchy, like livestock on a pile of hay?
Once again, I lie in bed wide awake, anxiously wondering by what miracle I will find my family a pandemic puppy in this climate of canine shortage. Everywhere I look now, all I see are happy family bubbles made complete by their new puppies, and I am painfully aware of the puppy-sized hole in ours.
Kennels have sold out everywhere and are now making reservations for the unborn. The only ones left are chihuahuas and shitty pitbull-looking fuckers. I may as well get a rabies-infested dingo. If you really want to do it right, you need a hypoallergenic mix of some sort. Preferably a poodle mix with an adorable hybrid name like Schnoodle or Peekapoo. Ain’t nobody want no Cockweiler or Pit Tzu crap mix. It’s official: poodles are now the Fuck Kings of the dog kingdom. Known to be a jittery breed prone to migraines and panic attacks, they were previously the laughing stock of wolves in the 18th century. Who knew that they would end up genetically dominating the 21st century merely for their hypoallergenicity and how well their names work as both a prefix and suffix? The wolves must feel like I did about the toilet paper, minus the paradoxical insomnia.
Nonetheless, I don’t care what kind of poodle mix it is, I just need one. And fast. But I’m losing hope.
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It’s been a few months since this whole puppy thing has taken over my thoughts. I find myself staring longingly out the front window as dog owners smugly parade by with their adorable puppies on display. I look down occasionally to mindlessly doodle puppies on puppies-in-a-basket stationary left over from the old lady who lived here before us. My children play sweetly by my feet. My daughter, Ingrid, bounces over to me on her knees pretending to be a puppy, emitting the tiniest, cutest puppy barks she can muster. My son trails behind her. “Mama, why don’t we have a puppy already. It’s taking too long.”
“I know my love, I know,” I say absentmindedly, twirling one of my daughter's golden, curly locks around my finger and pretending to scratch behind her ear.
And then… it suddenly comes to me!
“Guys, I think I know where we can finally get our very own puppy!” I exclaim excitedly.
How could I not see something so obvious before?
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It’s been a week already and the transition has been flawless. Ingrid loved the puppy costume I sewed for her using an old fur coat. And she really took to eating her meals from a dish on the floor. I have to admit she’s completely perfected her little puppy bark. Peeing in the yard took getting used to but I think she finds it fun! Ingrid’s daycare friends feel like they’ve won the lottery and love playing with her. My son is delighted with our new puppy and walks her twice a day or more. When we walk down the sidewalk with our new Poogrid, I can feel the envious stares of our neighbours land on our shoulders like rose petals. It makes me feel complete, invincible even. It just feels... right.
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Kindergarten registration will be coming up. I’m looking for a school that will allow Ingrid to read and do math using her clever puppy language. Also, bonus if they don’t mind the puppy bed instead of a desk. This is getting a bit hard to be honest. I feel like the neighbours are so jealous that they are constantly judging us. For what exactly? Ingrid was top of her zoom class in puppy obedience school.
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It’s winter now and I’m just sitting here warming my toes by the fireplace with Ingrid asleep on my lap. I’ve been looking at a lot of real estate websites lately. It seems when we go for walks now there are SOLD signs everywhere. Many of my neighbours seem to be buying up property or moving to luxury cottages. Some are building their dream house in the countryside or going off-grid in tiny homes. I’m getting concerned about the price of real estate going up and that we’re going to be too late in the game to be able to afford anything reasonable. The insomnia is back with a vengeance.
I think real estate is the new toilet paper of the pandemic. Ingrid wakes from her nap to look up at me, and barks in what seems like agreement.
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I’ve finally figured it out. I’ve narrowed it down, and it’s between a cottage in the Norwegian fjords or a remote shack in the Faroe islands. Either way, I feel really good about this. Anyhow, we can decide tonight. My husband has called an urgent family meeting. I’m excited! Wish us luck!
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Although I wrote that a while back as a joke, tonight I spent much of my evening searching for puppies on kijiji as well as cheap Scandinavian real estate. I know. I’m really developing as a person. Anyhow, here are some of my favourite gems below, all from the Cheap Nordic Houses website that I can’t seem to get enough of. It seems almost silly not to drop everything and restart our lives in Norway. Bark if you’re with me.
