Thursday, Mar. 11, 2010
Dog days
Miranda Wycoff, Journal Staff
Print
E-Mail
I am not a dog person.
I did not want a dog. In fact, I didn’t really want anything I would have to take care of other than myself. I am selfish that way. I’m in my mid-twenties, I’m allowed to be.
But when I got married, I knew we would eventually get a dog.
Not only did we buy the perfect house with the perfect backyard for such an animal, my husband, Matt, wanted one badly.
He always had a dog growing up. In his younger years there was the well-behaved and smart as a whip chocolate Labrador named Reese’s.
And when Reese’s passed on they got the equally lovable, Mousse — also a chocolate Labrador.
When he graduated college and moved into a house with two other guys, who had two other dogs, he went on and on about wanting a dog of his own.
But he was realistic. He knew the renovated 90-year-old home with a tiny backyard in downtown Kansas City was not the ideal place for another animal. So he waited.
I also had dogs growing up. But unlike Matt’s family we couldn’t keep a dog around for more than a year. Even though I grew up in the country and my parents’ house sat on almost an acre of land, it just wasn’t conducive to animals. For instance, there was no fence.
Most of my childhood memories of the five dogs we had (never more than one at a time) involve me running around in circles trying to bring the dang dogs back inside. They just wouldn’t listen to me. And that was frustrating.
As I got older I became more indifferent to dogs. It’s not that I didn’t like them, I just didn’t want to take care of one.
But in September I decided to put all my feelings about dogs aside and told Matt that he could pick out a dog for his birthday present.
The understanding was that this would be Matt’s dog. He would take care of it and play with it. And (hopefully) it would be in my way as little as possible.
We found Charlie on Craigslist.
He’s a 1-year-old mutt and I love him.
Not only is he adorable — I may be biased, but everyone says so — but he doesn’t bark and is just as content playing in the backyard as he is lying on the floor while Matt and I watch TV.
Sometimes I even refer to Charlie as “my dog,” but he’s still Matt’s dog when he does something bad. I also had rules for when we got a dog. I wanted him to either be outside or only in the kitchen and the basement. And under no circumstances was he to get on the furniture.
Charlie now has free reign of every room in the house. And it wasn’t Matt, but me who first let Charlie climb up on the couch.
Hey, he kept my feet warm.
Long story short, I still wouldn’t call myself a dog person. I just really love my dog.
Miranda Wycoff is a staff writer for the Journal. To respond to today’s commentary, call 816-282-7017 or e-mail mwycoff@bluespringsjournal.com.
