Last week a friend came by the house with her puppy. It was a Chihuahua. The boys just loved the puppy. They wanted a puppy. They needed a puppy. They forgot about the puppy. Some of my long time reader’s may remember I kind of have a fear of animals lately. It started when I had Brandon and I became incredibly grossed out with dogs. Then Codi came along and before I knew it cats were the yuckiest thing on the planet with litter and poop and VOMIT. Since then I have not had animals. I wouldn’t even touch dogs and sitting on someone’s couch with a dog nearly killed me. What I can figure is that maybe my current medication is a winner because somehow this weekend this happened.
It's really all my fault. You see this new restaurant opened in Reno that makes a great salad. We went there on Friday and I fell in love. So Saturday after T-ball I wanted to go get another salad. We could have went anywhere but I JUST HAD TO GO BACK TO THAT PLACE. We pulled in and saw a crowd and thought it must be full. But instead we found a puppy adoption place there. This was a problem. The boys were all over me after seeing the Taco Bell dog and now here was a whole cage full of dogs and suddenly they remembered the puppy and they wanted a puppy again and PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY. I laid down a firm NO DOGS rule and went home with two crying kids.
Here's where it gets confusing. Somewhere between that place and my driveway the kids convinced my dad to take them to the pound. To just "look." Somehow during this time my husband also mentioned that he "liked" dogs and somehow that all translated to LETS GET A DOG.
I said NO NO NO NO!
My dad swore they were just going to look, so the boys would calm down and stop crying but I knew better. So they went off to "look." The next thing I knew it was Sunday and this was happening:
I was holding a cocker spaniel that my boys had already named Sparky behind my back. My parents told me I was just going to look and see if I liked him but when I got there it seems all of the paper work had already been filled out. I was about to become a sucker. The next thing I knew I had visions of going on runs with (my) dog and him laying around the house with us (after a bath) and I don't even know what happened but on Monday I found this in my car:
This is Sparky. He is supposed to be a family dog but I'm pretty sure he is my dog. He has spent the last five days locked in a cage with no bed, no comfort and no love. He came home with me and spent the rest of his day running in the grass, chasing a cat, chasing a kid, eating bones and taking a very very long nap.
I IZ GOING TO EAT THE KITTY
I CAN RUN LIKE THE WIND MY EARS GO FLIP FLOP
We took him to the pet store and tried out every single bed:
He came home and chased the kids forever on their bikes. He ran and ran and ran and then he was pooped. So we took a bath and got all wrapped up.
And passed out.
Everyone made fun of me because I took him out of his towel and wrapped him all up in a blankie and apparently it was obvious or something that I was in love with the dog. But I wasn't the only one:
My husband spent the rest of the night doing this. And saying, "I just love him so much."
He got all tucked in for his first night and went to sleep.
He actually ended up sleeping in a kennel by our bed. I guess crate trainging is supposed to be best. But talking to two parents who never used a crib and let their kids sleep with them for over a year you have no idea how hard it was to put him in his crate. He cried for a couple of minutes. Rob and I might have cried too, and then he just went to sleep. He woke up this morning, ate, went outside to potty, and followed Rob all over the house.
Then Brandon came downstairs and touched his bone and Sparky was like, "WHOAH KID I IZ GET YOU IF YOU TOUCHES MY BONEZ."
He can't go up stairs very well. Or down stairs for that matter. So he barks when you go upstairs and hops around and it is just oh so cute. He tried to eat a teddy bear, a computer cord, a phone cord and I just looked down and he was chewing my favorite flip flop. He wants to play with the cat but the cat isn't sure about him yet. His ears get wet when he drinks his water because they flop right down into his dish. He is just the cutest thing ever.
And now he is laying by my feet as I type. On the carpet and I'm not even having a panic attack. I hold him and everything.
Holding a dog.
In my house.
All because I wanted a salad.