Confession: Once upon a time I thought I would be a most-excellent dog owner.
Sure, there were some clues throughout my life that I probably wasn’t up for the responsibility of keeping anything alive, much less a dog.
Like when I got a goldfish at the age of 11 and it lived 30 minutes and then died.
Or when I got flowers in college and they always died after 2 days because I over-loved them. (That’s an unofficial diagnosis, but I do believe I over-watered them).
But, after months of pleading and crying (I kid you not) and promising that I would be the sole care taker of a little monster, we got a dog.
I’ll have to tell you more about that story later.
The point is, he was nothing that I ever wanted but I knew I must have him.
All I can say is, thank goodness he was trained by his previous owners, because otherwise I really would be in trouble.
To my credit, I did take care of him for about a week.
Now the Husband does everything.
Sure, I love the little guy, but love does not keep him alive, just like over-love does not keep flowers alive.
The Husband has taken over all responsibilities of feeding, walking… well I guess that’s all there is.
I do play the occasional game of fetch, though. AND, most importantly, I let him sleep in bed with us. The Husband would never have let that happen.
You’re welcome, Monster.
Aside from being convinced I’d care for him, I was also convinced I’d be one of those crazy-owners that Instagrams their pet constantly and also does all sorts of ridiculous things. I was sure I’d buy little outfits and treats and all things semi-human.
Obviously I don’t know myself very well.
I meant to celebrate his first birthday with us, really I did. But alas, we didn’t even think to ask about his birthday for a few months in and by then it turns out we missed it. And worst, we were on vacation and he was with a doggy day care place. Total birthday fail.
- This is how I meant to celebrate his birthday.
For months I was convinced I would buy him a hat and just pretend it was his birthday, albeit a few months late.
But nope, it never happened.
I also don’t take many pictures of the little Monster. Well, OK, I take one a week or so, but he’s really not too photogenic or necessarily very cute, so I don’t think we need too many extras.
Really, if I have ugly babies (which I definitely will, the Husband and I were both ugly babies) there probably won’t be any evidence of their existence until they turn cute. That could be well into their 20’s!
I used to at least take the Monster out for walks… but then, one glorious day, he decided he would start peeing on the snow on our deck instead of needing to go on a walk. And that day changed our lives (for the next few weeks at least) and made me an even lazier dog owner. If I don’t want to put on pants late at night, I don’t have to – I don’t have to walk the little guy at all! Out on the deck he goes.
Really, this is bad. I know it is.
I wanted to be one of those preppy dog owners that treats their dog like so much more than the little four-legged friend he is. Unfortunately, I can only offer our little Monster love. And it’s lazy love at that.
At this rate, any offspring of mine don’t stand a chance.
Birthdays? We’ll celebrate next year.
Cute outfits? Who spends money on that? Babies can be naked for years before it’s unacceptable.
Baths? He smells fine.
I probably just don’t have the instinct yet… yeah, that’s it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go let the Monster out on our deck.
