Friday, September 25, 2009

Doggy Daze



    

             Three months ago I dreamed that my husband asked if we could get another dog.  In my dream I said, “In your dreams!”  My husband begged with puppy dog eyes, but I was resolute.
            What you should know is that my husband is not a dog lover.  At best he is a dog tolerator.  I am usually, no always, the beggar when it comes to pets.  I woke up thinking, wow, if Ric wants a dog, this must be really important.
            When I reminded him that he came to me in a dream begging for a puppy, he denied all recollection.  My question is, why would I dream that when he’s not a dog lover and I didn’t want another dog in the first place?  That is when I decided to give him the happy news that I had changed my mind because I am that kind of person.  You know the unselfish mother, always putting everybody else’s needs ahead of her own.  So I told him, since it is sooo important to you, we can get a dog.  He was speechless.
            Flash forward 2 weeks.  My son’s girlfriend’s sister’s dog who is the daughter of my son’s girlfriend’s dog had puppies.  (See pedigree chart of people and dogs at the end of this blog) and lucky me, I got to be there because I enjoy watching this kind of thing except I get a little gaggy when the mom eats the placenta.  But then again, I’ve never tried placenta, so who knows?  I wonder if I was not the fortunate beneficiary of modern medicine and had given birth crossing the plains or in the outback, would some natural animalistic instinct kicked in and would I have eaten placenta???  I doubt it.  How can you eat placenta when you are busy, screaming, throwing up, and yelling at the husband?
            In all honesty, newborn puppies are about as cute as naked mole rats.  Okay, I lied.  I just googled naked mole rats and puppies are a bit cuter, but not much.  (BTW – don’t you love Google?) 
            After I saw the puppies, then of course my children wanted to see the puppies.  Then we had to visit once a week, taking pictures to document their rapid growth.  All very scientific of course. 
            Then, that animal mind-speak thing started to happen.  Only, it wasn’t me speaking to the animals, it was the animals speaking to me.  The little white male of the litter started saying things like, “Look at me.  Aren’t I cute?  I will be your BFF.  I will make your children better children because having a pet makes them responsible and sensitive individuals.  I will lick up all the crumbs on your floor and you will never have to sweep again.  I will protect your family from harm and strangers, all four pounds of me.  I will wake you in the night if there’s a fire.  When your children have no friends, I will be that friend, forever.  I will only poop little tootsie-roll poops that are oh so cute and will just melt away. . .”
            Flash forward again, several weeks.  It is midnight.  Everybody is asleep except for me and McCoy, the mind-speaking, white, fur-ball.  He is not tired, so we are playing.  This is when I start thinking that his idea and my idea of a BFF are not the same.         
            It is now two weeks later than it was two weeks ago.  I have not gotten anything done.  I am tired from chasing him every waking moment.  My old BFF asks how my “baby” is and if she needs to bring me dinner.  I laugh and say no, but that is not what I’m thinking. 
            Finally, McCoy is asleep.  He is cute, especially when he is sleeping.  Most of what he mind-spoke to me was true, but he left a few things out, like:  “I will totally dominate your life.  I might pee on your leather couch.  My favorite pass time is digging holes in the carpet, I will be too little to go up and down stairs for awhile, so you will have to carry me, a lot.  (BTW – if there’s a fire, will you get me out of the house?)  I will probably find gum when we go outside and get it stuck all over me right after you’ve given me a bath.  I will wake you up early every morning, but I will look adorable.
            Next time the husband asks for a dog, I might not be so nice.

Family/Girlfriend/Dog Pedigree Chart illustrated by a lame genealogist




 


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