Here's something no one but my husband knows. (as you all lean forward in your chairs)
We have recently acquired a dog. Another secret fact about me -- I am not a dog fan. Every once in awhile, an individual dog will meet with my approval, but in general, they do not make my heart leap, melt or react in any other way. I have heard too many stories -- let's just leave it at that. And I have my own biases born of personal experience.
My daughter, however, has a different attitude entirely. Her eyes light up in pleasure at the sight of a doggie, no matter its size, color or state of dishevelment. One of her favorite book/movies is "Lady and the Tramp." Another favorite flick is "Air Buddies," a Christmas present eagerly received from her Uncle Nick. She loves taking walks in places with high dog populations. (Alexandria's King Street, for example)
So it was only to be expected that we should have a doggie of our own. It's just that, well, I figured I'd get to be part of the decision! Matt thought that he should, too. The doggie we now have, you see, is our own 4-year-old daughter. She magically transforms at some point in the evening -- and definitely all through the bedtime rituals -- into a four-legged little being with a disconcertingly realistic high-pitched yap. And a whine. And a tongue that we had to train not to actually LICK us. Yechhh.
I find it interesting that she didn't get the knees of her clothes dirty when she was learning to crawl. No -- it's only now that she's four that the knees of her pants have filthy, telltale patches. Or stained, telltale patches, if I've already washed the pants (and forgotten to put stain-away spray on them. Which is almost always).
As soon as we get to school most mornings, a little curly-haired friend named Alexander magically appears at her side and says, "Lizzy! Wanna play Lion King with me?" He's Simba, and she's Nala. They apparently have great fun, crawling around on the floor together. And on the ground, clenching a stuffed animal (their baby lion cub) in their teeth, during outside play time.
So, please be understanding if you see giant stains on her knees. Remember that I did not CHOOSE to have a doggie. Doggie ownership was thrust upon me. And good stain-lifting clothes-washing habits... Well, my mom did her best. Some people just aren't as trainable as others.
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I'm sure you'll find it amusing to hear that, somewhere between paragraphs two and four of this post, I - your soon-to-be neighbor - actually developed a full train of thought that went something like, "Oh geez. A dog? What kind? I hope it's not one of those big ones with the hair that gets all over the house. I wonder if they're going to want us to pet sit when they go on vacation. There goes their new backyard; it will be one big mud pit now..."
ReplyDeleteSo, uh, yeah. You can imagine my relief upon finding out you've adopted the one breed of dog we're actually happy to pet-sit for and clean-up after!
Kate, I don't like dogs either. And I can understand totally why you wouldn't tell anybody but your husband . . . people think not liking dogs is a character flaw. It's the smell and the slobbering and the jumping and the too-personal sniffing.
ReplyDeleteOh, Tara. It's that, and so much more! As Dee points out, you can kiss your yard goodbye. And to me, having a dog would be like adopting a kid that would never grow up. You have to take it with you on trips, or someone has to take major care of it while you're gone. (cats are so much easier on that front...) And the barking. Which I hear they can be trained out of, but I'm not so sure I'd want to count on that... And, not to get too gross, but any animal that actively WANTS to consume the waste products (all kinds!) of other creatures is soooo not fine by me.
ReplyDeleteBut I don't loathe all dogs. I'm happy to enjoy others' dogs ... as long as I can then leave them with their owners. Kind of like lots of people feel about kids.
THE VERY NEXT DAY after I posted this, Matt's dad called to see if we wanted a puppy. Someone he knew was trying to give some away. I was making dramatic throat-cutting signs at Matt while his dad was obviously trying to talk him into it on the other end of the phone.
I'm not really a "dog person" or even an "animal person." And yes, I'm afraid to admit it for fear that others will view me as a fundamentally flawed and cold-hearted human being. Most of the animals we had around the house were very small, uninterested in people, and kept in cages.
ReplyDeleteAnd, this is a very funny and great post!