Why puppy dogs are proof…

Hello! Next in a series of topics suggested by guest bloggers and friends. This topic for my musings also comes from the talented writer and excellent human, Mary M. I give you…

Why puppy dogs are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy

Cats. Hands down. Cats cats cats. I love cats. I’ve always had cats – from Meowrice when I was little to Cammie and Smack (Calico and noisy eater, respectively) to Russell – aka Fuck Russell MacAssCat of the Clan MacAssCat from the bonny loch Shite-in-a-Box.

Husband 1 with cats. Husband 2 with cats. Husband 3 with cats. And then there were dogs. A puppy to be precise.

Smack, the cat that accompanied me to Husband 3-and-Done (aka H3-a-D) became the longest relationship I’d ever had. We were together for 19 years. Longer than family members who’d technically known me for more years but were those really relationships? Nah.

After she died, I couldn’t get another cat. It was too painful.

H3-a-D, who could actually hold a non-narcissistic conversation, regaled me with delightful stories of growing up with dogs. About coming home from college to find a note from his mom saying “Pregnant Great Dane in basement. Will explain later.” About Flopsy Bellbottom’s ability to jump a 6′ fence. About Boots riding on an escalator in the mall. To be fair, Boots was actually a pony, but technically smaller than some of the Great Dane puppies.

Eventually, my broken heart considered life with furry critters again, but I still couldn’t bring myself to embrace another cat. Those puppy stories, though. Puppy stories. It was a kernel in my lizard brain that germinated until, seemingly out of the blue, I proclaimed loud and clear…

“I think I’d like to try a dog.”

Elliott rescued us very shortly soon after. He was 2 months old and cried and cried and cried in his kennel for 2 whole sleepless weeks. What the hell have I done?

Our neighborhood was totally bleh for walks so we got in the habit of trail hiking at Petrifying Springs Park (aka PETS-no-pun-intended) in Kenosha, WI. This was miraculous. Our puppy transformed from this occasionally cute fuzzball into a teeny, adorable, black ball of Labrador teetering joyously up and down dirt trails and hills.

One gray day with torrential rain in the forecast…

…there’s this golden window where we can head to PET’s and get in a teeter before the heavens opened up. While there, Elliott learned the thrill of racing down the trail and racing back to us at the top speed of waddle MPH. Wahoo! We are totally going to have a tuckered pup this afternoon = no crying in his kennel since he’ll be snoozing.

Time to head home only to discover that the car key is safe and sound inside the locked vehicle. It’s a 2-or-so-mile hike home so I ungraciously decide to walk home with H3-a-D to get the spare key. Besides, how could I bitch at him if I waited at PETS?

Elliott is on his leash, toddling along the country road when he decides he’s tired and starts to whine. Inconvenient proof that our nefarious ‘tucker the pupper’ plan had worked. I picked him up to carry but he was a Labrador puppy, weighed about 20 pounds, and was all wiggle. Pick me up, no, put me down, no pick me up, no put me down. About 5 minutes into our walk, the threatened torrential downpour starts. Pick Me Up Now!

Into my coat, I tuck my already soaked puppy.

Jacket zipped, furry head alternatively poking out and dipping back inside. 20 slightly shivering pounds feels like 40 bajillion after the first mile. Eventually, Elliott warmed up in my coat and wiggled less. Eventually, I realized that I would do anything for this puppy. I didn’t see it happening, it just did.

I was the Grinch in that scene 22 minutes into the cartoon where his heart melted, angels sang and he was suddenly 22 times stronger. Elliott still weighed 20 pounds and was coating me in sticky puppy hair. I was soaked to the bone with thicker and thicker mud stuck all over but Ron (aka H3-a-D) and I started having some fun with how cute and ridiculous it all was. How funny it was when Elliott’s head poked out and quickly ducked back inside my coat. How lucky we were.