Get out your composition notebook
Some days what really burns me up is that I can't have a dog. And while I know it's impractical, and well not to mention cruel for me to get a dog right now, it just makes me so sad.
I was meant to snuggle up with a dog at my feet. I used to curl up on the floor with Rascal and cup her chin and give her kisses. I'm not saying that it's an especially attractive mental picture, but that's what I did. I love dogs, big dogs actually, not really little dogs although a few can win me over. I want a dog in my life again. I miss taking walks with my Toby, I miss laughing at his droopy eyes. I miss pressing my cheek against his.
I fear that I'm not a big enough person to eventually marry a man who's allergic to dogs. In fact, I'm 99% sure of that fact. Oh well.
So this sesame street like entry was brought to you today by my experience last night. And my complete lack of sleep and horribly stressful day. I had to stop at the ATM before dinner and I saw two cute boxers standing just outside, so being way too much like my mother, I started to murmer, "Oh aren't you two the cutest little dogs?" And their mom is like "Oh, she likes you. She wants to go in there, do you mind?" And so she lets the dog in the ATM with me and my little pumpkin is running around, sniffing, jumping up while I'm signing my name to cash a check and I'm completely egging her on, "Hi honey, what am I doing? What is going on here!? Are you going to help me? Are you the best dog on the face of the planet? Are you just the sweetest, nicest, most helpful ATM dog there ever was? And my voice is in pure sugar mode at this point so the dog is glued to my side and we make our way over to the machine and she jumps up and we start putting in my password and then deposit our check and she almost eats the envelope and I don't care, because who needs money when you've got such a good little helper dog?
My dog loving is a definitive piece of me that has been dormant for way too long. I just miss them. I miss the unconditional love part of it. You don't have to explain yourself to a dog. You just are and that's so much better than anything else to them. Whether its a pedestal or a sand trap you're standing on, it's perfect as is. You can always win.
So let's set the record straight. I really can't stand baby talk when grown up people are intending it to be romantic. I will blatantly gag if I get stuck in line behind some cutesy couple (think: ballsless man and whiney girl). And what's with replacing the letter "L" with "W"? I don't get it and I just don't like it.
BUT it is perfectly okay (according to me) to talk to dogs like they're friends you're excited to see. And you don't have to call them "wittle" anything. While we're at it, it's perfectly fine to pitch your voice half an octave higher when you're talking to babies. It is also acceptable to make silly faces and exaggerated expressions. And then, when that's all good and done, you give the baby back and everyone's happy.
In short, I feel like I should fast forward my life to my dog years. And then I will go back in time with my dog and she will be very good and well-behaved while I live out what I can only assume, and hope, are my random years.
I was meant to snuggle up with a dog at my feet. I used to curl up on the floor with Rascal and cup her chin and give her kisses. I'm not saying that it's an especially attractive mental picture, but that's what I did. I love dogs, big dogs actually, not really little dogs although a few can win me over. I want a dog in my life again. I miss taking walks with my Toby, I miss laughing at his droopy eyes. I miss pressing my cheek against his.
I fear that I'm not a big enough person to eventually marry a man who's allergic to dogs. In fact, I'm 99% sure of that fact. Oh well.
So this sesame street like entry was brought to you today by my experience last night. And my complete lack of sleep and horribly stressful day. I had to stop at the ATM before dinner and I saw two cute boxers standing just outside, so being way too much like my mother, I started to murmer, "Oh aren't you two the cutest little dogs?" And their mom is like "Oh, she likes you. She wants to go in there, do you mind?" And so she lets the dog in the ATM with me and my little pumpkin is running around, sniffing, jumping up while I'm signing my name to cash a check and I'm completely egging her on, "Hi honey, what am I doing? What is going on here!? Are you going to help me? Are you the best dog on the face of the planet? Are you just the sweetest, nicest, most helpful ATM dog there ever was? And my voice is in pure sugar mode at this point so the dog is glued to my side and we make our way over to the machine and she jumps up and we start putting in my password and then deposit our check and she almost eats the envelope and I don't care, because who needs money when you've got such a good little helper dog?
My dog loving is a definitive piece of me that has been dormant for way too long. I just miss them. I miss the unconditional love part of it. You don't have to explain yourself to a dog. You just are and that's so much better than anything else to them. Whether its a pedestal or a sand trap you're standing on, it's perfect as is. You can always win.
So let's set the record straight. I really can't stand baby talk when grown up people are intending it to be romantic. I will blatantly gag if I get stuck in line behind some cutesy couple (think: ballsless man and whiney girl). And what's with replacing the letter "L" with "W"? I don't get it and I just don't like it.
BUT it is perfectly okay (according to me) to talk to dogs like they're friends you're excited to see. And you don't have to call them "wittle" anything. While we're at it, it's perfectly fine to pitch your voice half an octave higher when you're talking to babies. It is also acceptable to make silly faces and exaggerated expressions. And then, when that's all good and done, you give the baby back and everyone's happy.
In short, I feel like I should fast forward my life to my dog years. And then I will go back in time with my dog and she will be very good and well-behaved while I live out what I can only assume, and hope, are my random years.