I've been craving for a dog. A large, yellow, alert and hopefully well-behaved Labrador dog. It's the most illogical, inane, insane thing to wish for but I wish for it anyway.
There are a number of sensible reasons why this can't be. One: No room for another animal. Crap, I've got three running around our tiny apartment already, and one flapping around in it's cage, like I need one more; Two: No time for another animal (see explanation above); Three:No energy for another animal. (same sad, scratchy explanation above). There are more reasons why this is the most stupid idea I've had of late but I crave it just the same.
There is not a day that passes when I don't thing about my big yellow dog. I think I will name him Bob. It's short, simple, sweet.
Bob is reliable. Bob is well-mannered. Bob plays with the kids all day long. Bob protects the family from the monsters. Bob needs to take at least two walks a day. Bob needs to be fed three times a day. Bob needs to go to the vet, be picked up after, potty-trained. This is all too familiar-sounding.
I swore to end my baby-making years after #3 popped out of me, all 10.2 pounds of him, unmedicated, drug-free and a really retarded idea in hindsight. Natural childbirth is a bane and a boon and a whole lot of new-age nonsense. I say take the freaking epidural and push to your heart's content smiling, ladies. Baby #3 came to us in 2004. #2 in 2002. #1 in 2000. That's exactly every two years. 2000-2002-2004...and it's 2006. Already?!
Three is plenty to care for. Three is a whole lot of play-doh-on-the-walls-and-floors-scraping, poopy-bum washing, pee-in-the-middle-of-the-night potty training. So why the heck I want to get a big rock and drop it on top of my silly head, I will never know.
When we can afford a big house again, the one with the big backyard and the big staff to take the animals (yes, that includes the ones walking upright and need schooling) for their walks, you betcha Bob will be the first thing I will get me. The Mercedez Benz Van and the G5 PowerBook in my brand new Creative Studio can all come after Bob.
I love me my Bobby.
Damn this maternal instinct and baby-every-two-year pattern. Still kicking it after a million years of sleepless nights. Lack of sleep may induce super-woman, "one more thing to take care of and worry about? no problem! bring it on!" hallucinations. I even hallucinate what Bob will looks like. Here -
He's the one on the left. The black one is Sol's. My eldest son has been hallucinating supportively along with his mother. Good dog!
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peace
love
joy
~iKat
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