My STD

Not THAT you gize!!!  Geez.  No, I'm talking about my "Sigh-Times-Disease".  It's a very real illness.  Look it up in the journal of medicine that's sitting on your coffee table.

Over the last few days I've noticed that I've been sighing uncontrollably.  Like, one sigh every 3.7 minutes.  I googled it like any smart person does to get a diagnosis.  Through my research I've found that I either have a strong urge to picket on a street corner......or it's because of this:

Either way I'm pretty sure I need therapy.  Cuz I did NOT want a dog. 

But did you know that?  Or did you just assume I was an animal lover like lotsa other people?

You probably figured me more for a "view the animal through glass" kinda person than a "get on the floor and tackle the dog" kinda person. 

But I couldn't be sure, you might have to picket my house to let me know.

Let me rewind.  I grew up with dogs in my house.  We went from one dog to the next.  First was Misty, the poodle.  Couldn't find a picture of her but I also don't have a great deal of memories associated with Misty.  Except one----when my mom backed our VW bus out of the garage and ran OVER Misty, only to rush her to the vet while in tears to find that Misty was, in fact, deaderz.  Good dog tho, good times. 
Almost immediately following the Misty snafu we got Chewy.

 

Try to focus on the dog here people.  Just for a minute then we'll come back the obvious.

Chewy was supposed to be a Cockapoo (part Cocker part Poodle) but was, in fact, a big fat MUTT as you can see.  Chewy was a great dog and even rode around in my brother's backpack while we would go hiking.   Everyone loved him.  Well, everyone but my oldest brother.  And it just so happens that on a trip out of town one fateful day (my oldest brother being the only one to stay at home because of his job), Chewy "got out" of the yard and was hit by a car.  My brother "forgot" to close the side gate.  I'm not sure I've ever forgiven him for that.  ::shaking my fist up to the sky::

Back to the obvious.  How great was my LOOK?!!

 

Middle parted feathered bangs.  Those plaid cuffed shorts were my favorite.  If you look closely under my Aunt Visor homemade toll painted sweatshirt you'd see those shorts are sitting roughly at my ribcage.  I won't even comment on how adorable my dad is here.  I've already cried enough today.  (thanks a LOT Izzy!!)

I was totally devistated about the loss of Chewy and almost refused to accept the new dog in our life.  Skeeter.

This is a scanned page out of my childhood scrapbooks my mom made.  As you can see the entire page was dedicated to this dog.  I even used his ears as scrunchy holders and took a stuffed replica to BYU with me. 

(Now you are going to picket my house right?  I can hear the chanting now...."Friends don't let friends be crazy dog lovers!"  "Please say it's not true!"  I think you'll probably go with florescent signs and large black writing?  Sounds reasonable.  I'll bring out cookies and lemonade.)

I always knew that when I had my own "home" I would have dogs.  At least I thought I knew that.  Happens to me all the time.

After college I was married and had my own family.   And I had to keep my own house clean.  And feed my own babies.  And take those kids to the doctor.  And wipe up those kids poop.  And potty train those kids.  And I just could not imagine doing that for another thing.....especially an animal. 

"What was I thinking?" I'd told myself.  I'd become an animal critic.  Animals were gross.  Animals made your house gross.

And then I caved.  You may remember THIS post.  My little boys were so happy and so I was happy (I guess).

What I didn't understand at the time was what would happen to me.

Maybe it's the ears.

 

Maybe it's the humility from being a "lady of the streets".

 

Maybe it's the "broken" tail.

 

But one things for sure.  I like her.  I really like her.

Hence my STD.

::ginorm sigh::