Puppies, puppies, puppies

Ace the Chihuahua

While most girls this age start to dream about tiny socks and the smell of baby powder, I spend my afternoons dreaming of milk bones and pee pads. I am puppy crazy. It's official.

Here's ten reasons to show I've moved beyond being puppy "crazy" to fanatical":





1) Ben and I talk more about when we're getting puppies than our children. We discuss everything from the type of puppy to what kind of clothes they're going to wear. This is almost a nightly discussion. Yes, he still likes me. I'm not sure why.





2) Reading websites like www.cuteoverload.com is enough to send me into a depression. I have to play sad depressing songs, stare at the lack of cushy puppy beds in the kitchen and cry.





3) Vet commercials on T.V. make me tear up, squeal and tear up in that order. A fifteen-minute-nagging and whining session at Ben follows.





4) My buddy Libby and I spend our afternoons e-mailing pictures of puppies back and forth to each other. We get so depressed we have to go to the gas station across the street and get a cookie. She too, is puppyless by not her choice.





5) When people are walking their dogs, only a small shred of dignity keeps me from launching myself at their animals just so I can feel their soft puppy fur and smell their stinky puppy breath.





6) The cat at work hates me because I told her she'd never be as cute as a dog.





7) I've tried to bribe Ben to come to work and sit under my desk like a dog. I even offered to feed him jerky.





8) When I asked my boss if I could have dogs at work, he laughed. Then he realized I wasn't joking.





9) At the grocery store, I longingly walk through the dog aisle and sigh.





10) I keep toys at my house for other people's dogs, even if they only come over once a year.





It never used to be this bad until I went to college and was separated from the Babies. Once I was surrounded by a roommate with a panty-sniffing Chihuahua and sorority girls with adorable Yorkies, Chihuahuas and fuzzy little creatures, I became dog crazy. At first, Ben was able to stave me off by the fact we didn't have a backyard. Once we got a house, I wanted dogs. Then he was able to distract me with the fact I might got a job. Once I got a job, I resigned myself I'd have to wait five lonely years for my two dogs.





It's not like I want a lot. I just want two small dogs, one to be a Chihuahua to sit in my lap while I write. We'll take walks, we'll play, we'll snuggle on the couch. Unfortunately, small dogs need lots of love and attention and I can't bring them to work. So I had resigned myself to not seeing a furry face staring up at me for five long years.




Now, it's gotten to a point to where I see dogs everywhere. They're on the mousepads at Wal-Mart, the toilet paper packages, the junk mail I get, even my television shows. They're on the refrigerator, in parking lots and sometimes even at work. I see women carrying them into shops, walking them along streets or snuggling with them in parks. When I saw a white highland terrier puppy at the petting zoo, I wanted to take it home. I carried it in my arms for an hour. Ben reluctantly had to detach the puppy from my clutches and take me away.



While I wait in my prison of time, I must find other ways to serve my love for puppies. Until I can have two fuzzy furrballs of my own, I'll simply obsess over other peoples dogs. Childless people obsess over other children, I obsess over other dogs. The good news? I get to see the Babies tomorrow! (If I'm lucky, they may "accidentally" wind up in the car ride back to the Pond.)

The Babies in their favorite wagon