Puppy Apathy

 

 

By Jillian Owens

 

My decision to get a dog wasn’t the most well thought out one. I woke up one day and thought, “Hmmmnn…I think I might like to have a small dog.” I was attacked by my family dog as a child and made a vow to myself to never own a pet that could potentially take me out. If my hypothetical dog went rabid in the zombie apocalypse and it came down to him or me, I needed to know I’d emerge the victor.

This wasn’t quite concise enough a decision so I narrowed it down to, “I think the dog I might like would be a miniature dachshund.” This was based entirely upon the fact that one of my best friends and her husband had two. I liked that they were small, and I liked that they were snuggly.

I settled on this dog based on his photo.

 

Wouldn’t you?

 

He seemed pleasant enough. I’m a satisficer, you see. While others will spend 10 minutes in the laundry detergent aisle weighing pros, cons, prices, brands, packaging, and scents, I’m the type who quickly grabs the first bottle that looks like it’ll probably get my clothes clean under normal circumstances.

I had already decided that whatever dog I chose would be named Douglas, after Douglas Adams (one of my favorite writers), and I stuck to that quick first decision as well.

This is a terrible way to go about deciding to bring a dog into your life, by the way.

When I brought Douglas home, he whined constantly, chewed up everything he could get his little mouth on, and seemed to produce his body’s weight in excrement daily…but only indoors.

He was cute, but I didn’t like him.

I was kind to Douglas. I spoke to him in soft, gentle tones. I played with him and worked hard to house train him. But sometimes –like when he chewed up my limited edition Nanette Lapore sunglasses that I was only able to afford on sale and with a friend’s employee discount– I would look at him and think, “Ugh. This was a mistake.”

 

They were glorious.

 

I began to think there was something inherently wrong with me. Douglas was adorable. My friends all congratulated me on having a puppy with such a sweet disposition. But I didn’t really feel anything. A few friends offered to take him off my hands if I thought he was too much of a handful.

Gradually, I began to warm up to him. He finally grasped the concept of going to the bathroom outdoors and lost a lot of other bad puppy habits as well. I began to enjoy his company and actually missed him when I was away. His silly sweetness chipped away at the crustacean-like shell that had somehow grown over my heart had previously left me impervious to his charms.

 

Poses like this helped his cause.

 

A couple weeks ago, I was walking him around my neighborhood when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a neighbor pull into their driveway and open their car door. A large lab mix jumped out of the back seat, and upon seeing Douglas, galloped down the street snarling and barking, his leash trailing uselessly behind him.

In slow motion, I tried to grab Douglas in my arms, but he was so squirmy and panicked that I couldn’t quite grasp him.

“This dog is going to kill him,” I thought.

I would love to say I calmly gave the other dog a quick Dog Whisperer “PSHTTTT!” and he backed away. I’d also love to say I possess the upper body strength and composure to have held the two dogs apart until they calmed down.

Instead, I dove to the pavement, covering Douglas as much as I could, badly cutting my knees and hands in the process and screamed at a level that would have easily earned a role in any 80’s horror flick. The other dog snapped and barked, trying to get to Douglas until his owner caught up to him, mumbled an apology and dragged him away.

I scooped Douglas up and carried him for a block before I realized I was bleeding and was probably scaring anyone who happened to be driving by. “Shhhhh…It’s okay. I’ve got you. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You’re safe.” I murmured to my shaking pup. I’m sure I looked completely insane.

It wasn’t until I got home and dressed my wounds that I realized something. This was the first time I had ever put myself in harm’s way to protect anything. I’m probably more fearful of pain and violence than most, but when something I loved was in danger, I didn’t even pause to think before putting myself between it and something I was genuinely afraid of…something that could have hurt me terribly.

My decision to get a dog wasn’t a well thought-out one. I went about it completely the wrong way. I wouldn’t advise anyone to make such a life-changing decision as capriciously as I did.

But if I love this little guy enough to risk life and limb for him, I must have done something right.

 

The Most Interesting Dog in The World

 

 

 

Jillian Owens is a writer, marketer, designer, and eco-fashion advocate. When she’s not gallivanting about, she’s busy refashioning ugly thrift store duds into fashionable frocks at ReFashionista.net or creating compelling content for the clients of Riggs Partners, where she works as a digital marketing specialist. She also reviews local theater productions for Jasper Magazine and Onstage Columbia, and is a contributor for The Good Life Blog and The Free Times. Any comments, questions, or crude remarks can be directed to [email protected].

 

Sign up here to start your free subscription to MidlandsLife!