How I Almost Died in the Middle of the Night with My Pants Around My Ankles (A.k.a. We Caved and Got a Dog)
Saturday 05.20.06- We got a note in the mail from a friend telling us to get a dog.
- JJ knows what a dog says and says it repeatedly (“wooh wooh”).
- A friend’s daughter was crying in despair because the dogs at our local dog shelter look so pathetic – her mom said we talked about getting a dog.
- I accidentally checked petfinder.com, and I accidentally came upon some oh-so-cute puppies, and I accidentally called and found out that there was one little boy left who was so sweet (my family has a tendency to get the last pick of the litter – we’re suckers for the runts), and we accidentally drove down to Salem, and we accidentally took him home.
It’s like the universe predestined it.
Except Orley doesn’t feel the same way.
He believes that armageddon is upon us: the Great Beast has invaded his home. And he prefers to try and exercise the demon by hissing and flailing and becoming a feline angry poofy thing. At all times of day. Including the middle of the night when I’m engaging in my “why did I drink so much water right before bed – wait, I do that every night” 2:30am potty break. When Orley has decided he must escort me to the bathroom and sit under my legs, and then the dingdong puppy decides he must be missing out on the party and comes to the door, blocking the cat’s only exit. So the cat decides to go all Sonic the Hedgehog underneath my legs, hissing and whacking, while the puppy thinks it’s a party and starts to jump all around, while I have my legs extended as high as I can get them and start whimpering to try and get the puppy to leave (who at that time was nameless, so I was pleading, “Puppy? Please leave. Pleasepleaseplease? Puppy??”) or wake the Hubby (a.k.a. the Fully Focused Sleeper – he slept through seven hours of my nighttime labor with JJ as I got out of bed every half hour, and let me tell you, I was not at my most gracefullest or quietest at that time of my life): he did not waken. And I thought, “This is it. This is where I’m going to die. On the toilet. With no pants. In the middle of the night. This is not pretty.”
I didn’t die. The puppy bounced back to his pillow. The WereCat went back to sleep. I flushed and returned to my side of the bed. And the Hubby snored on.
So, yeah, we got a dog. Lord help us all.
Whoever said you can’t buy happiness forgot little puppies.
Welcome, Jacksonville Jacks. Already a cool name and, I might add from the feline perspective, a handsome species.
Your bro Orley will come around. It’s hard being an only child for a while but most adjust. I’m sure your bro will.
The PIO (person I own) mentioned something about dogs being a big part of your mom’s family. So, you’ll be cool and when you meet the PIO, watch out, she talks baby talk (beyond annoying) and she already said you’re a genius.
Hey Aj
Squee! So cute, that puppy.
Topical in my life too, because dear husband and I are going to Oxford this very afternoon to meet a pair of li’l black kitties, with whom we may become family in the near future. One of my good friends from College has a whole litter of kitties to give away!
I’ve never owned a pet in my adult life yet, but husband has raised kittens before. The idea of “my husband + cats” is a sum of such incredible cuteness that it’s looking irresistable. Just the pet insurance, neutering, innoculations, feeding, and litter tray to get the hang of then. (How ’bout if husband deals with the poo to help me avoid toxoplasmosis exposure, given we’re planning to start sprogging before long?)
eProps to Jacksonville “Jack”!!!
All I can say is – Yeah! You’ve entered a good world!