I never considered myself a dog person. For most of my life I have owned cats. Cats I reasoned were the perfect pets. Self sufficient and strongly independent, they ask for so little. A clean litter box, a bowl of Friskies and some fresh water; you can literally go days without really noticing them. Need to leave the house for a few days? No trouble, just adjust the size bowls and know that they will be perfectly fine to look after themselves while you are gone. Yes, cats and I get along just fine each going about our own lives with nearly an awareness of one or the other’s existence.
So what was I thinking the day I wandered into the pet store and came eye to eye with a pretty little boxer; from what I can recall…nothing. I don't know if it was the fact that my oldest child had just left for college and I was feeling the effects of an emptying nest or if I was in need of a new project to keep me busy, but the next thing I knew I was signing her adoption papers, picking out a collar and a leash and completely oblivious to the rude awakening I was in for…literally. Night after night for what seem liked forever, I was a new mommy again and that meant having to wake numerous times. In the absolute silence of the dark and cold night she and I would head out in to the backyard disturbing no one except the cat who was attempting to sleep on the couch. I swear the cat would give me a look as if to say, so you thought this was a good idea did you?
The sleepless nights eventually ended, but there was still much more to accomplish. There were lots of potty training mishaps and expensive repairs due to a curious and teething puppy who thought the world, and everything in it, was her personal chew toy. And when we finally got to the place of success, my son asked me if I could look after a little helpless chihuahua puppy who had just been dropped off unwanted and in bad shape to the pet store he was working at. What was I thinking when he brought home this tiny little rag a muffin who’s ears were far too big for her little body? Surely I would recall the sleepless nights, the endless floor mopping and the nearly unrecognizable Jimmy Choos…but the only memory that flooded my body was the sweet scent of puppy breath and unconditional love. Believe me, the cat tried to warn me, but it was too late. I was once again running off to purchase a collar, a leash and a comfy little dog bed.
I'll be the first to admit…my house is a lot messier and a lot noisier than I would like, but it’s also a lot more loving and spirited. As I laid on the floor with my girls just last night, I noticed my dry clean only cashmere sweater covered in fur and thought to myself if that isn't the definition of love; I'm not quite certain what is. I must have been on the mark because just then the cat wondered over and although she wouldn't want this to get out…she joined in the festivities.
Gina McNew, www.ItsHipToBeHot.com
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