Are You My Mother?

I heard PaulA say to Duncandog, “Go see your mother, she’ll let you out.” I yelled from the other room, “I am not Duncan’s mother. I did not birth him.” (Since when did I birth a 4-legged animal? I’ve birthed 3 two-legged animals and that makes 6 legs…I think that is enough.)

First, I must say, “I love my dog.” Second, I must say, “I am not a love-my-dog-like-crazy” owner. You would not hear me say, “Come to mommy, my little puppy.” There are a lot of people who seem to love their dogs or pets more than their own family. I would not put myself in that category. I am a reasonable level-headed dog owner. Duncan is as cute as a dog could be…that is why he is still around.

The other day I was at lunch with some friends who all own dogs. I would put them in the love-my-dog-like-crazy category. After numerous cutesy dog stories, I piped up, “How long do dogs live anyway? Duncan is 10 ½…how many more years do I have to put up with him?” They all looked at me…“What…Is it something I said?”

Don’t get me wrong, the minute Duncandog ever became ill or missing, I would cry like a baby, but he is totally my responsibility. Our 3 kids that begged and begged, like the dog they wanted, are MIA when it comes to anything to do with him. It is yours truly who makes sure he is fed, groomed, bathed, let out, played with, talked to, given shots. I am always there for him…he can count on me…I take care of him.

Wait, (birthing aside) I guess I am his mother. “Come to Mother, Duncandog.”