The following is a list of all entries from the Dog. Stupid stupid dog. category.
We have a puppy.
A 10 week old German Shepherd named Misha.
I wrote, not so long ago, about not being a dog person.
Its ok, everyone told me, once you have a puppy you’ll fall in love with it.
A puppy takes work. It needs to be fed, taken outside, walked, played with, trained, loved, loved, and oh my god just love it some more because it’s not quite sure you love it enough.
So far, I enjoy aspects of having a puppy. I like walking around my neighbourhood with her. I like training her to do new things. I’m sure I’ll even eventually like the company she’ll provide. But what seems to be missing is the joy that I’m supposed to feel from having a creature to take care of. CJ is thrilled with the puppy. He’s been getting up in the middle of the night to let her pee. He cleans up her messes. He is concerned with vet visits and what the dog should and shouldn’t be doing. I mostly view the dog as an inconvenience in my day.
I’m not surprised by the amount of work a puppy takes. I was fully warned. CJ was fully warned. We both agreed to commit to taking care of the puppy so we did. I view her as a chore, something that needs to be done that I’ve committed to – like eating healthy – sure I don’t hate it but I’d rather not be doing it.
Here’s the thing about me: I don’t like taking care of other things. I don’t have that maternal instinct that makes me go all gooey when a baby is around. While I’m good at taking care of other creatures (really good actually) I don’t enjoy it. I prefer to work by myself, not on a team. While I have a natural tendency to lead (being a type A control freak) I will step away from a management role because I don’t like to deal with other people’s problems. I expect too much from small children and small animals. And I don’t receive any joy from being needed by something. I find it a nuisance.
This complete selfishness is the reason I won’t have children (maybe I’ll grow out of it but I doubt it). Unless something’s on my schedule doing what I want or leaving me alone I want nothing to do with it. (Insight into mine and CJ’s relationship – we’re adults, we do what we want, when we want to do the same things we do, when we don’t want the same things we don’t do it together).
This leads to my crazy cat theory: (OF COURSE I HAVE A CRAZY CAT THEORY!)
Children take a lot of work. Those with children have infinite amounts of time and energy to give to raising their children. They are patient and kind, receiving a true joy out of taking care of another being. (There are also those who have children because they need to be needed, or for a social obligation, or due to poor sexual education, but let’s leave that for another day, I only want to address the good parents here).
Those with only dogs, tend to be caretakers but with a lesser degree of dedication. They want something to take care of but without the commitment of 18+ years and a few hundred thousand dollars.
Those with a cat are like me. Selfish people who attempt to prove they aren’t selfish by having another creature to take care. Except with a cat you can fill up its dish and leave it for the weekend. Or get a friend to check in on it once a day and feed it. Little effort. Low maintenance. Proves you aren’t a psychopath because you take care of another animal without killing it. A cat is also good for keeping you from being too lonely. Something to pass the time until you find a man to procreate and have multiple babies. If that’s your style. Personally I use mine to kill the mice and prove I’m not heartless.
Crazy cat ladies? What happens when you started with a cat to keep you from being lonely in your early 20s only to slip into your 30s and 40s without a husband or children? You get multiple cats to fill that void of being wanted; of needing to take care of something. It takes a minimum of five cats to equal the energy needed for one puppy. Three puppies and I think you probably have the energy needed for a baby.
My sister with three children thinking about a fourth? In another lifetime, one without children and a husband, she would have 15-20 cats.
Think about it.
There are three types of people in this world:
People who like cats.
People who like dogs.
And those poor souls who like fish. We aren’t here to discuss the fish lovers.
I have now and always will be a cat person. A cat, especially my cat, a 5 year old 20lb black and white tabby named Dante, is easy. I feed him twice a day. He enjoys a good cuddle in the morning and just before I go to bed but that is as much attention as he needs.
CJ is now and always will be a dog person. A dog, especially the 100lb creature he wishes to acquire, demands constant attention. You can’t do anything without considering the dog. You can’t fill a dog’s bowl up and leave it for the weekend. Apparently a dog loves you in ways the cat could never but I’m not sure about that.
I don’t want a dog. If I wanted to be responsible for another creature I would have a baby. And despite CJ swearing up and down it will be his dog and his responsibility I know, like with all things we do, the responsibility will be at least 50/50.
As a couple you make compromises in your relationship. Sometimes you have to give in not because you want to but because it’s the right thing to do. He so seldom asks of anything from me that when he has a simple request – even one that will change our lives forever and make us responsible for a needy creature I feel like I have to do it.
I’ve read the books. I’ve talked to dog owners. I’ve insisted on spending lots of time with dogs. Apparently it’s going to be fine. Apparently I will fall in love with the slobbering creature and magically transform from happy cat lady into crazy dog lady. Apparently.
As soon as I relented and agreed to let a creature into our lives, CJ found a list of potential breeders. He’s been researching the best ones and what to look for in a dog. He’s happily considering various dog foods and dog vets and other dog things. I’ve never seen him so productive over … anything.
Despite a full round of heel dragging I’ve agreed to participate in the selection process. I mean I agreed to this ridiculous scenario so I’m going to go all in.
This morning I sent an email to a breeder asking about a German Sheppard puppy.
What’s that? It’s spelt shepherd eh? Hmmm, oops. My bad. Hopefully it doesn’t prevent the woman from answering my email because she thinks we’re too dumb to own a dog.
… hey, just because I agreed to something doesn’t mean I have to give up my passive aggressive measures to prevent it from happening.