Like birth order…just when you think you have your rolls established and stereo-types fulfilled, BAM! Your parents pull a sneak attack out of the woodwork.
I thought my standing as “third-born-baby-of-the-family” was locked up. Especially when the topic of adding to the family brings about shrieks of laughter from not just one, but both of my parents. To quote my Mother, “Unless there’s some divine plan for Jesus to have a sibling, we are done having kids.”
Rock-solid status, right?!?
To that I say, NO SIR!
Did you know there is something worse than bringing a newborn baby home? Something cuter? Something softer & snugglier? Something for people to drop what they are doing and talk to a complete stranger just because this THING is with them? Worse yet, something that threatens to take one ounce of the attention away from THE BABY OF THE FAMILY?!?
That’s right, we got a dog.
Not just a dog…a six-and-a-half week old puppy. And from the response this thing has received, apparently it’s a pretty cute one.
This attention sucker has taken over our home, our lives, and last but not least, my standing.
She has her own stupid basket of toys shaped like stupid fake animals, a stupid pink crate, two stupid bowls with pictures of stupid bones on the side, and a stupid flowery leash.
I think I hate the stupid toy shaped like a stupid road-killed beaver the most. The constant reminders about the dogs beaver are nauseating.
“Don’t touch the dogs beaver.”
“The dog loves to run in circles with her beaver in her mouth.”
“Leave the dog alone when she is playing with her beaver.”
“Look at the dog wrestle with her beaver.”
“The dog sure loves her beaver.”
“Go find the dog’s beaver.”
“Don’t take the dog’s beaver from her.”
The dog’s name is Kali, and apparently she loves her beaver.
I hate that stupid beaver.
For Kali’s three month vet visit, she only wanted to sit by me. She hid under my legs when the doctor tried to stick her with yet another round of shots. Why she would think I would save her from the torture I wished I could execute myself is beyond me, but for the sake of looking sweet, I appeased her feeble request. She must have wanted something to nuzzle since we left her beaver at home.
It’s my job to play with Kali every day. We go for walks, play fetch, and wrestle. I get to feed her, let her outside when she has to go to the bathroom, and help with her bath. I try to sneak her treats during dinner and let her lick the leftovers off my chin. I don’t even mind if she sometimes wants me to play fetch with her beaver. Sometimes.
At five months old, Kali has decided to lay claim on the one safe haven I had left…my bed. She joins my Dad and I every night for my bedtime story. She lays right next to me, curls to conform to my body’s shape and listens to “Go Dog, Go!” right along with me. She nuzzles her head in the crook of my neck and we eventually synchronize our breaths as we calm for the night.
My dog loves sleeping with me and I guess I love it too…even if she insists on bringing that beaver with her.
When I come home my dog greets me with more sloppy wet kisses than I can stand. We hide under my bed, play chase and taunt my mom with the number of laps we can run around her.
I am teaching her not to bite me by biting her right back, and how to pee in the bushes by enthusiastically demonstrating with my accuracy.
And even if that beaver is part of the package, then so be it. I guess it’s not so bad…it looks like it has been chewed up, spit out, and beaten by 10,000 bikers…but it’s hers and anything she loves I love, too.
I just have one question…why didn’t my parents get me a dog sooner?!?
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