Almost at the onset of meeting my husband in college he has requested, begged, and pleaded for us to get a dog. From dating to engagement and then marriage, he listed the three things that would make his life “complete” – a basement man cave (check), a flat screen TV (check) and a dog (uncheck).
Whether he was desperate to fill a void or have a playmate, I would not relent in my decision that we would be a dog-free household.
In trying to convince me otherwise, he went so far as adopting a mutt from the pound without my consent. Both college students at the time making $6 per hour and unable to afford more than a night out to McDonalds, I was furious and quickly found an adoptive home for the long-eared-unattractive mutt. We were both left heart broken for different reasons.
But call me a hero.
During the three days of owning the mutt, he coughed a constant nasty noise that always left me thinking he was having an asthma attack or chocking on something from our non dog-friendly college apartment. Luckily the new adoptive couple had a veterinary in the family who saw the mutt right away. Severe kennel cough and a multitude of other health problems left the mutt on antibiotics and other costly medicines we could have never afforded at the time.
Time heals all wounds but a man on a mission always remains focused.
As the years passed this story became one that garnered laughter and pity. Sometimes I was viewed as the hero, other times as the villain. But I always knew we did right for that mutt and I always knew that one day the topic of us owning a dog would be revisited.
Married and then a home owner, the request for a dog began again. As in the past, I reiterated all the reasons why I did not want a dog: they require time, they cost money, our lifestyle will have to change, we can’t come and go as we please, and most importantly it will poop and pee on our beautiful wood floors! Oh, our wood floors and how I adore them! Absolutely not!!
And then there was Sully.
My husband didn’t keep it a secret that he wanted a dog. His family knew. His friends knew. Our neighbors knew. So seven weeks ago when our neighbor (who volunteers for a rescue organization) received a call that a French bulldog/Boston Terrier mix needed a home, she thought of us first. My husband was at work. I drove home to meet the puppy knowing in my heart, that this was it. I was moments away from throwing all my arguments and logical reasoning out the window. Welcome poop and pee, meet my wood floors.
You can only imagine the joy, the pure ecstasy my husband felt when he walked through the front door and into a hall way that had a black-and-white-spotted dog with folded, floppy ears. I officially became the best wife ever. And I officially became a dog lover.
I said “yes” to Sully seconds after holding him. He was just days shy of his three month birthday. And now eight pounds heavier, seven weeks later and $400+ dollars poorer I wake each morning excited to see his wrinkly face (which says a lot because I hate mornings). I
adore my puppy and his stinky farts, his bad breath, and most kind kisses on my face. I love his hyper play and gentle snuggles. He has been a test of our patience and the source of our laughter.The biggest lesson learned from saying “yes” to our newest family addition is that sometimes at the right time and at the right place in life, logic need not apply.
