Certain things are usually a given. They happen without any thought and yet they always turn out the same.
Like which pearl earring I put on first. I laugh every morning when I put them on, because no matter how many times I put them on (and no matter how I lay them down on my nightstand), I always grab the same one and put it into my left ear…the one with the different backing because I lost the original. I know this because it hasn’t stood up as well to water and the backing is a different color than the other earring’s backing. And I know you’re not supposed to shower with pearl earrings, but sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way.
Or, how I always put on my left pant leg first, but always put on my right sock + shoe first. Or, how Daisy will cuddle up to me when I have coffee to smell it (and hope I leave it unattended so she can have some). Girl is addicted to coffee.
Those things are always a given.
However, yesterday the unexpected happened.
My heart was broken by this little brown turd dog here:
This little chocolate Chip was my first dog. Ever. The dog my parents would never let me have until I lived on my own (which wasn’t until I got married at the ripe age of 25). The dog that I nagged asked my newlywed husband for 8 months straight until he broke down agreed we could have a dog. My $50 Craigslist puppy from a family that took in his parents whose owners couldn’t keep after a foreclosure, added them to their pack of four dogs, only to have his momma have 6 puppies a month later, which meant said family unexpectedly had 12 dogs and had to down-size. (I know that’s the longest run-on sentence in history but I’m justifying it because it’s my blog).
This little long-awaited momma’s boy of a dog betrayed me yesterday.
We went out with friends on Saturday, and so that I wouldn’t worry the entire time about them being alone for 7-8 hours and having to “hold it,” I left Chip and Daisy with our neighbor whom they love. I could enjoy our time out, and in turn, B could enjoy our time because his neurotic wife wasn’t worried about her precious angels.
Since our neighbor goes to bed early, Chip and Daisy slept at her house. When it came time for them to come home in the morning, they came galloping at full speed (as usual). The kind of speed where I worry if Chip’s 16 pound frame will knock me over if he doesn’t slow down in time. There was the usual greeting of sloppy puppy kisses and jumping and whining. A canine celebration, if you will.
But what happened afterwards was unexpected.
Instead of him following Daisy and I into the house, Chip stayed outside. I watched him sniff around and inch closer and closer to our neighbor’s house, just thinking he had to go #2 or something (the dog takes forEVER and walks a mile looking for the perfect spot). When it was clear I had to go get him, being the person that NEVER walks outside barefoot, went back in to get my flip flops. When I walked back outside, I saw Chip happily trot across the street and proceed to go into my neighbors garage.
Anger. Shock. Hurt. Betrayed. I felt all of those things at once.
How could the dog I waited for all my life just choose someone he’s known for 2 years over me? I know he’s just an animal and can’t reason like this, but that’s what I felt and that’s what I thought. My neighbor brought him back, on his leash this time, and he knew I was mad. He kept hiding behind my neighbor’s legs. If I moved left, he moved right.
I spent the better part of yesterday sulking around, still bitter at the whole thing. And then I thought, is this just s preview of what’s to come when we have kids? When they prefer their father over me? Or worse yet, they show their defiance and tell me they wish so-and-so were their mother instead?
All you mothers out there, I take my hat off to you.
