Boss of me.

As I write this my dog is on my lap eye-balling the day old luke warm re-heated pizza slice that I’m calling my lunch.  She cannot understand why I won’t let her eat any of it. 

Is my dog the boss of me? Yes.  Yes she is.

I have an aunt who has spent most of her adult life adopting dogs and giving them more love than anyone could ever hope for.  When I was nine years old we drove (yes drove) to Texas from Michigan to visit her for a week.  During that week I got more sun-burned than a lobster, went to Mexico for the first time and was given a gold bangle that probably costs more than all my other jewelry combined.  I also have crystal clear memories of sitting down to dinner and watching her take a bite and then not one minute later stabbing some meat off her plate with the same fork and feeding it directly to one of her pups.  Even as a nine year old who thought bathing was for chumps and who washed her hands with soap so rarely that I’m shocked I didn’t die of foot and mouth disease, I remember thinking that was gross. 

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. 

There are things that I do so quickly and thoughtlessly now as a dog-mom that my dirty nine year old self would be appalled.  Well, suck it mini-past-me, because if I have to pull a dingle berry out of my dog’s butt to make her life easier, then I’m gonna do it.  If I end up spending more money on my dog’s food than I do on my own, then so be it.  If I schedule my extra-curricular activities based solely on how much time my pup has spent alone on a particular day, oh well.   If I occasionally brush her with my hair brush if hers is in the other room, then oopsies.  If my dog has more outer-wear options than me, or if I no longer have a “side” of my bed because I let my dog call dibs on what side she feels like each night, or if I no longer sit down on the subway when I have her because it means she can’t look out the windows, then tough.  Call a spade a spade I suppose because my dog is the boss of me.    

I will however, draw a line in the sand at sharing food off my fork.  That still, is just gross.