Then she handed me the one that looked like my former baby. This dog at 8 weeks was almost as big as Bitty is, yet she was barely bigger than my palm. I held her up to my chest and cooed, "Hello, little girl. How are you?"
The puppy blinked up at me, one brown streaked eye raising as if to say, "You smell. This place smells like cat pee and self-loathing. I'd like to go home please." Then she decided my watch looked tasty, settled in my lap and proceeded to gnaw my wrist.
I giggled and held her closer to my chest. Libby held the other puppy, both of them blinking furiously to keep their eyes open and not fall asleep in the chair. The puppy whimpered and I handed it to my co-worker, smiling when I saw her eyes crinkle with joy. This tough journalist was baby-talking and cooing two tiny furballs, as she should.
As I stroked their impossibly soft fur, I realized I didn't have that same pull in my chest I once did when I saw a puppy. No longer was I desperately craving hot puppy breath and tiny kisses like I once was before the Babies came into our lives. I could now enjoy a puppy and hand her back without feeling as part of my soul ripped out.
And, I regret to say, I spent the entire time thinking of these puppies and making unfair comparisons.
"Bitty is much more spunky then this puppy," I would think to myself. "Bear would have peed and pooped on my boss's carpet by now."
Watching them sleep in their little bag, their pink bellies rising and falling, I knew one thing was clear. I'll always love rat terriers. I wouldn't mind having a few running around the house. But Chihuahuas have stolen my heart. Specifically, these two Chihuahuas.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's puppies in the office! I have tiny paws and pink bellies to attend to!
(It may be wrong, but I'm really hoping they pee in a certain person's office.)