According to the Census Bureau, I live alone. I, however, beg to differ. Yeah, I’m currently the only 2-legged being in my household but by no means do I live alone. Not if you count 4 dogs, 4 cats and an array of foster kittens. But furry things don’t count with census takers.

As you know, I frequently blog about my animals. After all, they give me lots to write about. One of the 8 often does something either ridiculously adorable or exceedingly frustrating…it’s a continual cycle of entertainment.

Consequently, I am never bored. Who has time for that? I’d need to pencil it into my schedule: Sunday, August 6, noon-1:00: BE BORED. I must admit it might be nice to have that luxury. When I’m not out wrangling kitties or on the tennis court, I’m at home attempting to work through my never ending honey-do list. And I’m the honey that do.

Now don’t get me wrong. I hire help whenever I can’t figure something out, which is rather frequently. And my neighbor Paul, Mr. Handyman, is always lending a hand or a tool. And lucky for me he has every tool ever invented.

But my point is, life is busy. And I like it that way. I’ll have plenty of time to sit back in my old age, reminisce (if I still have my memory) and complain about the work involved in owning a home or about not having had time for other things.

But here’s the thing: I’m actually doing what I want…although most days it’s nothing particularly exciting. But I’m a futzer. I like futzing around this place, painting scuffed door trim, purging my shed, installing light fixtures…it’s never ending. So being a lounge lizard isn’t on the menu for me.

Also, my pets keep me hopping. I like my home to be relatively fur-free and my yard somewhat poop-free so there’s the constant vacuuming and scooping. Also, the dogs need their daily walk, the one 4-letter word I tend not to utter too loudly for fear of being accosted.

As soon as I ask, Who’s ready for a walk?, the chaos begins. Nellie awakens from her 10th nap of the day and heads to the pet drawer to wait for her leash.

Callie jumps from the sofa and rushes to take her spot near Nellie.

Did you say what I think you said?

Skip races in, unable to contain his excitement, twirling in circles until Wally, taking up the rear, promptly snatches Skip’s ever-present blankie from his mouth then tears off into the family room, Skip barking in hot pursuit.

Let the battle begin

I yell at them to come back while trying to put Nellie’s special collar on her long neck. Hard to do with a squirming Greyhound. Then Callie’s collar is next. But in her excitement she ALWAYS runs to get a drink of water first, lapping it up like she’ll never drink again. So I wait. And I wait…

Skip resists his body harness, forcing me to corner him to slip it on. Then Wally runs to the front door and waits for his collar and leash. He insists it be done by the front door. What can I say? He’s a weirdo.

Wally the weirdo

I snap Wally and Skip together while Skip barks madly, scratching at the newly painted door trim. When I finally open the door and tell them to wait, they actually do. I know, hard to believe. Then I say, Okay, let’s go! That’s when all hell breaks loose as they dash down the walkway, me in tow. Every. Single. Time. Rinse and repeat.

So welcome to my world — one where boredom simply doesn’t exist.

Why can’t I go for a walk?