I am not a dog person. I just don’t completely understand dogs. They seem kind of dumb to me and so darn needy. A cat fits much easier into my life- requires little work and attention. But, I see a lot of people who are really in love with their dogs and think if there is something wonderful to experience in having a dog, I want a chance to experience it myself. Plus, I had always envisioned my three boys running around with a dog in my Truman Show world.
I wanted to be a smart dog owner. It was important, I was told, to find the right breed. So I started my research and discussed- even argued it with my husband. We had decided on a greyhound or whippet mix, definitely a rescue. Upon arriving at the Howard County Humane Society, a whole litter of Puggles was being unloaded from a truck and dropped off for adoption. Oh my, this is going to be hard. So we cuddled with those sweet little things and a pit grew in my stomach. All of a sudden I was convinced it was fate and we needed one of those puppies. We saw a few other dogs, including a sweet little fox-looking thing that was quiet and cuddly that seemed appealing but no greyhounds or whippets. Gee, we must have forgotten about that smart decision of the “right” breed. That went completely out the window. So we leave the shelter and my husband talks me back to my senses, “We don’t want a puppy, it’s going to be too much for us right now. ” OK, he’s was right. We go back one more time to look at the sweet foxy-looking dog and my husband immediately falls in love with one of the Puggle puppies. He’s got dough eyes and a change of heart. Now I’m bummed because I have my heart set on the foxy dog. We decide to put three pieces of paper in a hat and let my oldest son pick one. One with the foxy thing, one with the Puggle puppy and one with both (momentary insanity, yes). We left it up to the power of the universe to decide.
So, on Christmas morning, we welcomed Skittles, a debatable Pomeranian/Sheltie/Fox/Something Else mix. I thought it would be this big, excited Norman Rockwell moment with the boys jumping up and down with glee. It was more like “confused” or “bewildered” than that. Here’s the fuzzy, 6:30AM no sleep video:
Notice the naming of the dog in the end. Skittles? Really? It was like out of nowhere. I would like the record to reflect that I would not have chosen such name if given the choice. It was for Andrew’s choosing.
So now that he’s with us, I won’t admit that I’ve fallen for him, but he sure is carving a spot in my heart. Here are a few photos of him I took this morning. I am a self-admitted non-pet photographer. If you want amazing images of your pets, please got to Fidojournalism where Stephen Bobb will rock your pet’s world.
He can use this one for a headshot when he becomes a dog star:
The cat is not really crazy about the dog. Can you tell?
I think this is the closest she’s ever gotten to him. She hisses and swats at him, which is no different from anyone else who visits our house.
Maybe the feeling is mutual:
Thanks for reading until the end. If you did, you MUST be a dog lover.