Saturday, February 20, 2010

Starts With 'P' -- Ends with 'UPPY'

You hear it all the time...those women with a silly little clock ticking away demanding procreation. Well if the world of science can xerox sheep - there must be a cure - a tick-enectomy or sorts. Not seeing baby Jens in the forecast. But another ticking has taken hold of apartment 1202S. Puppy-mania.

Like any infection, it sneaks up slowly and is wickedly contagious. This is a perfect opportunity to blame the parents. What started out as a childhood with Labradors quickly became the Richer Home For Wayward Strays, and over the years abused and displaced mutts slowly infiltrated our purebred palace. And we loved them. From one-eared Spencer, Schizophrenic Sparky to Anti-social Runty (we never really got around to naming her). Leaving town? Landlord bans pups? Know a neighbor who shouldn't be allowed within miles of a dog, let alone own one? Call Beth (mom) ...if she waivers...mention it to the kids. Bam - puppy chow for 4 please.

In the early DC years a puppy fix was just a plane ride away, and summers were spent home with the pack. But after graduation, money was tight and visits were fewer.  Now like proud little mommies sporting baby bumps- everyone seemed to be adopting. Tommy has Chip, Carly has Jake, Megs has Darcy. Ugh and I can't stop thinking about the little fur balls

Linds ever the rational one reminds me that 1. our hotel-esque building won't allow the 4-legged friends 2. neither of us has time for all the responsibility and 3. dog hair in your dinner parties, walks regardless of windchill, and total destruction of furniture. All valid points. But the clock - or whatever it is - ticks. And the word puppy comes into EVERY conversation. Try it - how was your day linds...oh thats know I was thinking it's time for us to get a puppy......we need to pick up more milk...and a puppy. Have you seen my keys? Oh the PUPPY must have hid them...right we don't have a puppy.

This of course facilitated by the latest read Marley and Me. (for me - not the rest of the world - my reading list is as current as Japan is to Blockbusters)

Ugh and yes - I knew the ending before I started. Even strangers in waiting rooms felt compelled to warn me. But just like adopting a dog- the unspoken but impending universal doom lurks. But the time you have leading up to that ending is priceless. So yes if that's all remember about that book is the end - sucks for you. The 200 pages leading up to the doggie funeral had me rolling on the floor - literally - in fits of laughter. Not because the writing was particularly funny - but because it was so spot on. He captured the world's worst dog -second only to every dog we ever fostered. It was like reading an account of my childhood.

But Marley had nothing on Hershey our chocolate lab. She chewed through power wires, and barbie dolls for breakfast. (So much that our Ken, Barbie's Marine Biologist husband had a "shark bite" accident in Barbie land) Jumping a 6' fence was hardly an obstacle and within weeks - she was a recognizable fugitive in the the neighborhood. Ironically, she took orders from a 4" Pomeranian and an even smaller dachshund mutt. Duncan, our yellow lab feels intensely that coffee should always be outside of your mug - and while nuzzling will give a quick nod to the bottom to facilitate the process. Damn - fooled again.

Macy - our black lab can turn knobs, open doors, rip tin foil and open cabinets - nothing is too difficult for a taste...or a full dish of people food. With the same ease she can take over a queen size bed with a mere stretch of the legs - finding myself on the floor in the morning.

Those dogs were part of the family and now I can't help but want to start my own here on the east coast. Shedding and all. Did I mention...I want a DOG!

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