I have a dog now.  For those of you who know me, this is weird.  I’ve never had a dog and I’ve never really liked them.  I’ve always been very formal with dogs, and I’m not affectionate.  I’m not much of a cat person, but I’m used to them at least.   In the last couple of years I have warmed up to dogs a little.  I notice them now.  I have pet one once.  My plan was in the next twenty years I would be ready to have one, but not in our house now.  After some negotiating Richard suckered me into agreeing to more immediate terms.

I thought I would have time to process the new addition.  I planned to take our cats Milhouse and Ely out for ice cream to talk about the changes.  I wanted to film and edit a feature-length documentary about a cross-country trip where I interviewed people about their dogs and when they fell in love with them.

By the time I got home from my parents house — something like 48 hours after originally giving in — Richard already had a dog picked out and had made appointment for me to visit her, and I found myself in the SPCA pet store picking out a leash.  I was so nervous that I felt sick.  I felt like a high school senior who had just gotten his girlfriend pregnant.  What would happen to my football scholarship (by which I mean, will I have to worry about dog hair getting into cake batter?.  Do I have to take her every where I go?  Do I now have to care about an entirely separate set of things?).

Worries aside, I already like her.  She’s cool and quiet, and loves Richard, and probably likes me, too.  My life has changed.  I hope she doesn’t turn out to be a jerk.

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