My childhood was devoid of gerbils, hamsters, birds, or fish. Other than the photo below, I don’t recall owning a cat.
And definitely—NO DOGS!
As a preteen, I suffered through a sleepover that included a pony-sized Weimaraner. I learned that its house-rattling bark was just for show. Out of six girls, he chose to snuggle next to my sleeping bag. He passed gas through the night.
My friends owned energetic huskys, over-excited poodles, and a bulldog that always looked hungry . . . for my ankles.
In my dog-ged defence, when it comes to ALL canines . . . I am terrified. They have sharp teeth and claws. I can’t tell the difference between happy woofs and angry growls.
I don’t speak dog.
Google diagnosed me: Cynophobia —the fear of dogs. It is intense, persistent, and irrational.
I am a minority in a dog-obsessed world.
Many people choose dogs over children or a mate.
I read The Pokey Little Puppy to my toddler son. When he got older, I planned to read Where the Red Fern Grows and Old Yeller.
A boy needs a dog. Right?
That’s what all dog lovers believe.
Then someone brought us an adorable puppy. She offered kibble and toys, and said, “It will be fun!”
I put on a brave face and we named him Trouble. He constantly nipped and yelped at nothing.
I had no business raising an animal I wasn’t comfortable with.
Then Trouble contracted the parvovirus. I felt like a failure as I drove him to his final visit to the vet.
As if the universe was giving me another chance I didn’t want, two Australian shepherd puppies showed up on our doorstep. At the time, we were preparing to relocate across the country. We found new homes for the strays. The children didn’t mind. My unease with animals had rubbed off on them.
Eventually, we adopted two cats—a much better fit. They were part of our family for thirteen years.
Sometimes I long to join the dog-loving club.
Dogs are loyal companions and furry comforters. Every year, I faithfully watch the National Dog Show while cooking Thanksgiving dinner. I wonder what breed would work for me?
Alas, this fearful dog may be too old to learn new tricks.
What is your relationship with dogs?
Oh Kimberlee this is the best. I also realized that the name “Trouble” has been consistent with your pet names. I think that sums it all up.
Perhaps another name might have changed everything! Sweety, Cupcake, or even Spot.
Molly won’t hold that against you. She’ll climb all over you regardless. She knows better.
Can’t wait. Sweet, sweet Molly. 😂🤣
When our kids were still home we had a couple of likable outdoor dogs, when we lived out in the country, along with three indoor cats. When we moved back into town, only one cat (and no dogs) made the move to city life. As a kid, I longed for a tawny colored cocker spaniel, for a pet, but there was never a dog in the family. Many years later, I am kind of glad! I can enjoy other people walking their varieties of breeds, picking up after them, barking at me as I take a walk, and go home to peace and quiet.
Peace and quiet. Yes. I also thought having a dog would mean less travel for me. And that wasn’t going to happen. Cats practically beg the humans to leave them alone. Ha.
I grew up with only a goldfish and turtle as pets due to a Mom with allergies (and 4 kids in a small house). I got my first dog when I got married and over the many years, have been Mom to 6 dogs. While I enjoyed them, that chapter came to an end when one granddaughter with asthma proved to be highly allergic to dogs. I do occasionally miss a cute little furry someone to snuggle but remind myself how nice it is to not have to rush home or line up a neighbor to watch while we are away. So I will smile at my happy memories of Sammi, Charlie Brown, Montana, Missy, Savanah and Cali and pet and enjoy the pups of others.
Grandkids come first but I can understand (in theory) how you might miss a furry creature to snuggle. Charlie Brown . . . I love that name!