A Day in the Life of my Puppy

If I ever come back after death; let it be as a dog. Not just any dog, but a spoiled, pampered and catered to dog or in other words, My Dog. That 12 pound ball of fur rules my life from the time I get up until I go to bed. He has taken over and become my boss and I’m really unclear how it happened? It all started 3 years ago when he was presented to me with a red ribbon pasted on his little furry head and all 2.2 pounds of him became my life. I had no idea any animal could weave such a diabolical spell on any human being?

It was love at first sight; for me anyway. I think it was “look at the sucker” for him... So for the past three years my day begins by stumbling down the stairs and opening his kennel door just in case he needs to “go” right away. If you knew me pre-doggy days, you’d know that nothing, zip, zero got between me and my first cuppa Java in the morning! I have become so pathetic that my caffeine fix now comes second! Nevertheless the dog always gets first dibs even though he generally presses the snooze button a couple of times and doesn’t actually want out until I’m sitting nicely on the throne trying to empty my bladder of a night’s worth. I find myself saying, “Just a minute, wait, I’m not done”. As if he can understand my need to finish or even the English language? As if....

I talk to this little, fuzzy animal all day long. I act like he can understand which of course, I believe in my heart of hearts, he can. Even though more often than not he pays me little attention unless it involves a treat or going outside, then inside, then outside, then inside....we never use to have a revolving door?

As for his treats and meals they must be cut up into bite-sized Bichon Shitzu tidbits, warmed and preferably “people” food, although high-end doggy meals are tolerated occasionally. He also, enjoys sharing anything I eat and if lowered will beg, which sad to say rarely happens as I prepare meals with him in mind. You know, broil the extra chop or burger so poor my puppy doesn’t starve to death?

He also, has his favourite spots around the house which never includes his kennel. There is a much-loved blanket which must be laundered regularly or a perturbed puppy will drag it to the stairwell heading to the washing machine. I am NOT joking! Any chair, coach, pillow belongs to him at any given time, should he take a fancy to it. I have been known to squeeze my butt into the chair so as not to disturb His Highness. Good of him to allow this, ‘eh?

As for sleeping arrangements he does sleep in his dreaded kennel at night because the Hubby isn’t quite as taken with his charm and won’t let him in our matrimonial bed. This grieves me almost as much as it does my puppy, but I explained I did say “for better or worse”! Puppy and I make up for it by having afternoon naps in the boudoir. It is a compromise....

So the moral of this tale is to warn anyone considering adopting a family dog. Be WARNED, your life will never be the same! He or she will take over your house, your time and your heart! They will cause you to do things you never believed you were capable of doing. You will be a devoted slave and not even mind. Because at the end of a long, hard day there’s just nothing like those doggy kisses and whole-hearted excitement to greet you at the door. These make it all worthwhile....