I never had a dog growing up. In fact, I was deathly afraid of them. We had a kitten when I was about four. It was only years later, as an adult, that I realized the timing of the onset of my asthma coincided with the arrival of said kitty. He was a yellow tabby named Puss-in-Boots. There's no way that if I had an allergy, it wasn't going to manifest itself because my brother and I got up close and personal with him constantly. One of our favorite activities was putting our fingers in his mouth and laughing at his attempts to nip us with his tiny teeth. Not long after, during a family vacation, I started having a lot of trouble breathing. A doctor in Texas told my mom that I had asthma and to keep me off of dairy. How depressing--no ice cream! I often wonder if we hadn't had the cat, when and what allergic reaction would have triggered the condition. We never had cats after Puss-in-Boots wandered away one day (we think the neighbors took him) so for the rest of my childhood, we were pet free except for the goldfish and guppies. I developed at some point an intense dislike for cats. Sure, they're cute, but just so creepy! Cats are too quiet. And they keep you from eating ice cream. Dogs are noisy and awkward and you always know where they are. Still, it wasn't until I had kids that I became a dog owner. The things you do for your kids, right? I decided I wanted a real dog, not a frou frou, so my kids had some guidance as to what to look for. We got a really cute beagle/bassett mix named Copper, and he was very clumsy and noisy and perfect. He was a little heavy, raided the garbage can on a daily basis and howled for hours on end. Copper lived to the ripe old age of ten, at which point he developed lung cancer and had to be put down. A few years later, after his sister had gone away to college, my son asked for a dog. I was ready, so off we went again to the Humane Society and Paws for several weeks, checking out the dogs that were up for adoption. Not too big of course, but a nice sturdy, all-American, back in the day 14th Street dog. A beagle, or a cocker spaniel, or maybe even a collie mix. The kind of dogs that everyone had when I was a kid. No designer dogs for me...uh-uh.
Given my aversion to frou-frou dogs, how on earth did I end up with this??
(Disclaimer--this is not my house. The tacky combination of plaid and stripe belongs to a relative who shall remain nameless.)
The Lhasa Apso on the left is my dog, Gizmo. The Shih-Tzu is Pepper, and she belongs to my niece. They are best doggie cousin friends. What has happened to me? I have a pampered dog who lays on the couch, and I refer to him having cousins. He hates the outdoors and won't eat unless his food is warmed up. Have I completely lost my edge?
No, let me place blame where it's due. My son picked the dog out. He hadn't had a haircut in probably a year, so his hair was very long and thick. He looked about 15 pounds heavier. After his first cut, I didn't even recognize the dog and almost refused to take him home. That little wimpy dog couldn't possibly be mine. And there's more blame to place--on my sister and mother. When I moved back here to 14th Street, downsizing into this apartment, I couldn't take Gizmo, so they agreed to keep him for me. This is where the couch sitting, food warming and picky eating came in. I think he may be ruined, and in doing so, has found himself a new forever home. I'm not having any of that!
Amazing how things change. Tastes, preferences, circumstances. I grew up on this street, no dog. I grow up, move away and become a wife, mom and dog owner. I move back and I'm no longer a wife, and I'm a dog owner in absentia. Oh, I see Gizzy every day, but he has turned soft on me. He was always a mild-mannered little guy, but now he's just a wimp. And he likes his new life and knows that he has it good. So I take him to the vet and to the groomer and to points in between. At the end of the day however, he's not hanging with me because he prefers couches and warm food.
Amazing how things change.
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