I’m an idiot and don’t let anyone tell you different. Hubby said it was going to be tricky having a dog. We tried to wait until the kids were old enough to take some of the responsibility. But I wasn’t anywhere near ready for the explosion of emotions that hit me after Pup’s arrival.
I made a comprehensive ‘Pros and Cons’ list – and called it Dog Gone, (the title should have told me everything.) Top of the list was MORE WORK. Half way down the list, (which was a huge miscalculation) was NEEDS REGULAR EXERCISE. No one out there told me that Pup would look completely miserable after being trapped in the kitchen for an hour while I squeezed in cooking dinner, cleaning, and dared to try a dribble of writing. Why didn’t someone tell me this truth?
Top of the Pros list was UNCONDITIONAL LOVE but I chose a Pup that doesn’t often acknowledge my existence unless I have a treat in my hand. Yes, he loves the kids and puts up with hubby, but he makes me feel guilty that we’re not out walking every waking minute.
It’s time to stop whining and focus on the positive as I try to do in life, or when I’m writing my blog at least.
The Pup had a key role in our emails to the kids at sleep away camp. Here’s a snippet: “We have been busy walking Biscuit all day every day. He found a dead bird yesterday and sniffed its guts. I expected him to lick it but he just kept sniffing and wondering. He comes to Dad much better off the leash in the garden, but he’s very fussy about the treats we offer him. No processed nonsense he says. (If only my kids were that smart.) He’s taken over the sofa in the living room. When he’s all stretched out I can barely fit my petite butt on it. He’s definitely a sofa hog!”
I wrote nonsense but I wanted to prove that Pup is now a major focus in our new doggie world.
Pup’s sometimes a bit crazed by the big bush in the garden and barks at it. Yes he barks every so often, a sad little whiney bark, but it is a doggie sound at least. He now feels that he’s sort of part of the family, but I look over at him as he does me and I think we’re both wondering who the other is, and why on earth they’re there. Maybe my son has been transformed into a cream colored doggie shaped alien and I’ll never get a hug from my handsome boy again?”
Adventures with the dog have certainly given me more to share with the kids. Our walks have been very eventful. In the first month we sniffed out: two used condoms in a local Temple’s secluded car park; a baby bird fallen out of the nest unable to fly; and three hundred different mushroom varieties.
A cracked, tiny bird’s egg caught our attention, one thousand squirrels, two hundred rabbits and a very stinky pile of poop that he rolled in before I realized what it was. He stank for hours. I sprayed him down with a watering can and thought it best to use my hands to rub it off to avoid traumatizing him more. Afterwards, he looked like a startled marshmallow-dog.
Another plus to our dog walking escapades was meeting our neighbors on both sides for the first time. We’ve been here eight years. (Yes, we’re very friendly.)
Finally, an attractive young man stopped in his car looking very confused. He asked the way to a street on the other side of town. I’m horrible with my lefts and rights and got busy trying to decipher whether he should take Broadway or Post Road. The direction at take at the lights stomped me. So he drove away, only to return looking more lost before I realized that he was masturbating in the car.
I failed to remember the finer details like his dress and the car type for the kindly police officer. I could only recall that Pup had pulled hard on the leash several times. He’d tried to protect me and place a barrier between kindness and freakishness.
Mr. Lost didn’t have a fully erect situation going on in the car that morning. My brain couldn’t decipher what my eyes registered. It looked like he had a wobbly gear stick or lever jammed in his hand. I know I’m going to shock you again when I admit that one of my major problems with this scenario was that I was wearing my cutest tennis gear. A friend later said, “You’d better walk the dog in your bikini next time!”
Don’t worry I won’t. Such a sight would cause an accident and older drivers might expire instantly. Of course this meeting has made me more wary while I walk Pup. An elderly rabbi out for a little trot around the temple caused my spine hairs to twitch in trepidation and I’ve avoided giving directions except to fully clothed ladies.
Yet I make fun of the situation only because I don’t understand it. An ancient part of my brain, that stays asleep normally, awoke with the disturbing undertones. If only I could have changed something in that young man’s mental make-up. If only I’d calmly asked him to put it away as I preferred to see his smile. Instead, anger rose up in my throat and I stated that he was a TW@T (a crude name for female private parts) and strode off. At least I hope it confused and deterred him from doing it again that day.
Now, I inhale the scent of Pine trees lining a neighbor’s garden. I think of Christmas feasts and the crunch of snow underfoot in the high eighties as I wipe the sweat of my brow. I stare at the many pretty gardens, and pray that Pup doesn’t poop on their perfect lawns. I invent planting schemes to improve my flowerbeds. I’m rudely jolted out of my daydreams when Pup darts after his two hundred and first bunny rabbit.
It’s a really good thing I love that Dog Gone Pup! My Life will never, ever, ever be the same again! It’s enriched forever.
Tell me about your interesting pet adventures in the comments below. Love to chat!