There comes a time after you've been married a few years that you and your spouse should sit down and talk seriously about expanding the family.
I'm talking, of course, about getting a cow. Well, actually my wife is talking about getting a cow. I have zero interest in getting a cow and barely have any interest in the indoor cat she has now.
Heck, I've put Sadie on Craig's List three times already and have had zero interest. Apparently, "Lazy cat with attitude problem" is not a great subject line for a free cat ad.
My wife believes her cat belongs indoors, while I believe it belongs outdoors, preferable in the country -- perhaps the country of Kenya or Brazil.
I've already made it clear that when Sadie passes away someday that I get to pick the next pet, and I've decided it will be a Pet Rock. Even it will have to stay outside until it dies and she gets to pick another pet.
If it were up to her, she'd not only pick the next pet, but she'd do it right now even with Sadie still around. And she wants a cow. She loves petting cows, seeing cows in pastures alongside the highway and even loves pictures of cows. I love cows in burger and sirloin form, but that's about it.
It wouldn't shock me completely if I were to walk into the house after work and find a cow in my living room -- although at that point I also would have a cow.
We live in a modest, cozy, three-bedroom home in the city limits, and I don't think a cow is the best pet for that environment. I'm not comfortable with the idea of a lap cow crawling onto the love seat while I'm trying to watch "Jeopardy" every night. It's bad enough I have to share the love seat with a cat, 12 pounds of cat hair and 47 pillows that have no particular function other than to take swipes at lazy cats with bad attitudes.
Worse, Sadie could teach our house cow about some of her favorite ways to disturb my sleep, such as jumping on the bed (often upon my head) about 3 a.m. or meowing about 4 a.m. -- not that a cat can teach a cow to meow, mind you, but I'm not sure mooing at 4 a.m. would be any better.
And while I find the idea of a litter box in the house gross enough, I can only imagine how big and nasty a cow's litter box would be. And cowpies are among my least favorite pies, ranking only slightly ahead of rhubarb.
Besides, I've spent too much time painting the living room to find "eat mor chikin" scrawled on them.
If I want to see atrocious spelling, I'll just check out my friends' Facebook posts.
There is one bright side to all this cow talk, though. After years of shooting down my desire to move to a small cabin on a quiet tract of land in the country because it would be too far from a mall, she is now giving serious thought to it.
Well, she's at least giving some consideration to moving out there with a cow. She actually hasn't mentioned anything about my moving out there.
If she does ride off into the country on her dream cow, she'd better take that darn cat.
And the pillows, too!
Connect with Chris Johnson at Facebook.com/KudzuKidWriting or on Twitter @kudzukid88.