I like my dog Lucy, but I don’t like the fact that she does dog things. I mean, she can’t help it, but I wish she could.
She’s sweet, but she has bad breath, so don’t get in my face.
She doesn’t eat much, but poops a lot.
She is obedient, but still doesn’t understand that it’s not nice to jump on strangers…or me.
She is protective, but doesn’t realize that the same kids get off the same bus every day at the same time so the barking is one of those dog things I wish she wouldn’t do. But, hey, she’s dog.
She is hairy and it falls off in more amounts that I like. And it’s black.
She’s not that big, but big enough to knock over small children with her tail.
See, she’s a great dog except for the fact that she’s a dog.
My sweet husband is a dog lover. If it was his way, she’d sleep with us every night, but because of the previous list…it ain’t happnin’.
I don’t want to be the one who gets her way aaalll the time, so we’ve kept Lucy for 6 years now. We got her one Christmas when the girls were little, and honestly, I didn’t think they cared that much.
Just this week I thought, “I think I want to get rid of Lucy, but I don’t want to hurt JT’s feeling because he likes her and all, and well, I just don’t want to be that mean.” Still, we talked about it and he assured me that yes he likes Lucy, but it’s not like they’re tight or anything.
It was time to give her away.
Thank God! er, I mean, ahh, you sure?
So, I hear JT breaking the news to the big girls the other night, when I realized I could hear sniffing and consoling. I walked in the room (notice I wasn’t even in on the conversation. I think I was twittering or something) and mercy, you’da thought we’d just told them that we’re moving to Alaska and we’ll never be in touch with any of our friends….ever!
Are you kidding? Are these the same kids that yell at Lucy to “GET DOWN! GET DOWN!” off the trampoline? Are these the same kids that forget to let her out of the dog run after jumping and playing outside? What are all these tears? Why all the sobbing? WHAT’S GOING ON!?!?!
I sat between them on the couch. Goose could hardly contain her weeping. Boog just stared off then flopped over on my lap. I was stuck between a weeper and a sobber.
What to do. What to do.
Their faces! Their sweet, sobbing, red, puffy faces! What else could I do?
“Lucy can stay,” I say with a mustered up compassion. I couldn’t just sit there and see those faces and say, “Welp, that’s life!”
I figure we got a few more years with Lucy and I didn’t want to hear the stories later in life from my grown up girls about how mom broke their hearts and made them get rid of Lucy.
See, it’s still all about what I want.