It means I can finally get a dog.

Oh, and it also means we can get out of apartment living and the douchebag parade that has installed itself recently in our building, smokers that have now resorted to smoking inside the apartment with windows closed so that we can’t visibly catch them smoking, have a dishwasher and laundry in our own house, reclaim furniture that his been so nicely stored by my nice parents for a nice long time, relax on a front porch, and all that jazz.

But, DOG.  The important things, right?

We decided that I wouldn’t get a dog until we had a house and a fenced in yard, which makes a lot of logical, grown-uppy, smart sense but does absolutely nothing for my childish, exuberant, sad-face-when-I-see-dogs, dog-loving heart.  But now that a house is (hopefully, fingers-and-toes crossed) imminently near, I’m getting very excited about my new future dog.

Notice I’ve said dog, and not puppy.  I do not want a puppy.  My long-standing theory is that if you’re going to get a puppy, you might as well just have kids.  They seem eerily similar in many, many ways, and I’m just not quite yet hopping on the having-a-kid wagon.  

Here’s another odd comparison between thinking about kids and dogs: Whenever you mention to someone you are thinking about having a kid/dog, someone ALWAYS pipes up with their unwarranted opinion about your choice of breed (we’re back to dogs, now, if you haven’t noticed.  Does anyone talk about breeds of kids?  I hope not.)

It goes like this:

Me: “We’re thinking about getting a dog.”

Vocal Opinion-Sharer: “Oh really, what kind?”

M: “[Insert breeds here that we've carefully thought about.]“

VOS: “Oh, you don’t want XX dog.  They’re horrible/smell/break things/will eat your furniture/ruin your life.  You should get a XX dog instead.  My sister/cousin/husband/plumber/candlestickmaker/baker had one and they were great.”

M: ….. (inward eye-rolling, and let’s face it, sometimes outward)

[End scene]

Don’t get me wrong, I am sometimes an inadvertent Opinion-Sharer.  We all are.  I think it’s our way of relating to the subject matter and having a conversation.  But when it’s EVERY TIME I say I want a certain type of dog, it’s obnox.  Like abbreviating words.

That being said, I had this great idea last night around midnight about Future Dog, and I had to share this with the Boy. It went a little something like this:

Me: “Dear, I had a great idea.  We’ll buy the house, then get a Basset Hound* and name him Mr. Bates like the valet on Downton Abbey.”

Boy: “He really doesn’t seem like the most Basset Hound-y character on Downton Abbey.”

Me: “Who’s more Bassetty than Mr. Bates?”

Boy: “That other waiter dude.”

Me: [Looking it up on Google] Mr. Carson?  Yes, I suppose you are right, even though Mr. Carson is considered a Sheepdog.  But I think Mr. Bates sounds better.”

Boy: “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

[Cut to scene of me, acting out all of the scenarios wherein we are petting Mr. Bates, talking to Mr. Bates, feeding Mr. Bates his food, all while talking to him in a very formal, British tone.]

Boy: “Never going to happen.  You want to know why?  Because at some point I’m going to have to yell out the dog’s name repeatedly to get him to come in, and all the neighbors are going to think I’m yelling out “Master Bates”, which is very, very bad.”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Boy: “Just say it a few times to yourself, dear.”

Me: [realizing that yelling Mr. Bates really loud does, indeed, sound like an inappropriate out-loud word that I refuse to type on the blog so as to avoid skeezy Google searches and associated comments.]

Boy: “Exactly.”

Me: “So, Mr. Carson it is?”

[End Scene]

+       +       +       +       +

*Yes, we are considering a Basset Hound.  Yes, we know what they look, sound, and smell like.  Yes, we are concerned they might be a trifle frumpy and/or the wrong dog for us.  Yes, they look like they’d be so adorable in a smoking jacket and pipe.  No, I do not want to know what you think about Bassetts, unless your name is Renee and you are my Basset Hound-pimp because you own one.

*All photos courtesy of Dogster.com.

me (looking): um…no.

boy (pointing to one of the actors on screen): isn’t that guy in the godfather?

me: yes, but it’s not one of the godfather movies.

boy: are you sure?

me: yes.  sidney poitier was not in the godfather.  neither are hardly any other black people.

boy: how was i supposed to know that?

me: you’ve watched the godfather.

boy: oh, right.

boy: such a good movie.  how did you like it?

me: loved it.  and i might have a small crush on marlon brando now.  is that okay with you?

boy:  i have a small crush on marlon brando.  so, yeah. as long as we can share.

me: united over our mutual crush on a film actor but only in one particular movie role from 1954.  our relationship is really grounded in reality.

boy: indeed.

mom: so what would you say is the main theme of this book?

me: i’d say, centrally it is about the oppression of women in society by men.

mom: okay, how about this one?

me: how women’s lives are shaped and determined by men around them.  in victorian times.

mom: okay, what about this one?

me: this one is about how a group of bachelors and how they are all free, educated and have opportunity, and then part two features a bunch of maids and widows who have a crappy life producing paper for the men.

mom: seriously?

me: yes…i mean, they mention other things, but…

mom: i hate to ask, but what about this one?

me: um…how women are denied education in favor of offering it to the men. basically, more oppression of women. oh, AND FOOD.

mom: sigh.

dad: i’m depressed already. [exit dad]

the end.

* * * *

we are currently in our faux-blizzard, which we prefer to endure on the couch after going out to get some hot chocolate. the store actually had no hot chocolate (what the heck? in colorado?) so instead we got chocolate chip cookies to go with english breakfast tea (with milk & sugar) that the boy just brought me.

and if i hadn’t caught a ride with my sister down to his house, he would have come and gotten me just so i could spend the blizzard with him. pretty great, he is.

this should hopefully make up for the fact that he’s sitting next to me biting his fingernails, a habit that is about ready to make my head explode. maybe. pass me another cookie, and i’ll think about it.

grin.

me: a cute bird.

boy: like a bluebird?

me: sure.

boy: standing or flying?

me: whatever is cuter.

boy: a standing bird is definitely cuter.

* * * *

no further explanation offered.

• sara: if “x’s” mean kisses, and “o’s” mean hugs, what do all the other letters mean?
• troy: foreplay.
• [pause]
• sara: touché.

• sara: apparently because i’m white and middle class, i should like the tv show ‘the wire’. so i rented it.
• troy: OK
• troy: whoa
• troy: caps
• sara: i feel like we say that enough that that is it’s own phrase. like if you do something wrong, you should say “whoacaps!”