Tuesday, January 10, 2012
It’s amazing how quickly life returns to normal, isn’t it? Everyone’s back at work or school now, most of the television series have returned to new episodes, and politics is the word of the day on the Sunday morning talking heads.
I have to confess I don’t follow American politics as closely as I used to. Heck, I don’t follow Canadian politics, either. Maybe my inner curmudgeon is not only no longer inner but aggressively outspoken. It just seems to me that everyone can talk the talk, but no one can walk the walk.
I’d much rather read a book—or write one. Or spend time with the newest members of my family.
I don’t know if I mentioned it, but my daughter got herself a new pet a few months ago—not another cat, surprisingly, but a dog.
Well, it’s advertised as being a dog, but I call it a puppy-cat. It’s a Chihuahua, and her name is Bella.
She got the puppy when it was just 9 weeks old. Because of the breed, and because we live in Ontario, Canada, of course the dog needs to have a wardrobe.
She has sweaters, and coats. My daughter tried to get it to wear little booties, but frankly, that just wasn’t happening. In October, Bella had a Halloween costume. Yes, she went around dressed up to look like a green caterpillar.
My daughter is devoted to this animal, and the dog adores her right back. That’s probably the major difference between the two major species of domestic pets.
Dogs—even ones who come disguised as puppy cats—tend to be more affectionate toward and more dependent upon humans than cats are. I’ve always said the major difference is that dogs have masters, while cats have staff.
One good thing about my daughter having a puppy is, she won’t let it wander free the way the cats have, so I won’t soon get a new boarder here. The down side of that is, there have been a few times over the last couple of months when my husband and I have been asked to “puppy sit”.
When she asks, I always tell her to ask her father. My position is logical. I was the one who did all the child care and housekeeping while holding an outside job. Any grandchild entertaining—be it a human, feline or canine grandchild—is up to him.
He sometimes grumbles, but then I look and see he has the puppy-cat on his lap, sound asleep.
The only problem my daughter had with the new family member is that her puppy tended to demand all of her attention—very much like a little child. On her days off, she found it difficult to get anything done as Bella wanted to play all the time.
I thought the solution to this would come with time and patience and training. My daughter, however, had another idea. She decided that what the puppy really needed was a baby sister.
If Bella, by virtue of her size is a puppy-cat, then Ivy, the new Chihuahua most definitely qualifies as a puppy-rat. Don’t worry, my daughter takes very good care of them both, and Bella seems delighted to have a baby sister. Jenny laughs, of course, at the names I have given the two canines.
As you might imagine, when it comes to my daughter, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I have been given a new title in the family, too.
Apparently, I am now Grandma-puppy.
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