The dog

This morning, I got asked to clean up after my dog.

Now, don't get me wrong. She's far past puppyhood and the phase where she didn't loudly complain when she had to go outside. What her problem is, is that she loves people. So occasionally, stupid things happen. There's grooves in the hall at the front door where we had to hold her back from jumping people, you can't not have her under the table when there's several people eating there, and she likes the cleaning lady. A lot. So much, in fact, that she padded through the hallway after her while it was still wet. I didn't see the paw prints, but my mom insists they were there and that everyone with eyes in their skull would notice and somehow excommunicate our family from society for it. I think they'd just notice we had a dog, but that's probably just me.

A second thing the lovable lump does is sunbathe. I had to mop the hallway and the entry hall, which faces east and has a gloriously glass front door. The dog had decided that she was going to soak up the sunshine that morning, but I had to clean before my little sister came back from school. She was utterly baffled that she suddenly wasn't allowed to lay motionless in the sunshine, not bothering anyone, and had to move. I cleaned and she went to lie on her doggy bed in the kitchen, to watch doggy tv.

There's no television in the kitchen. There's just a door that leads to the patio and is open when it's dry and sunny, and there's a side window that faces the neighbours' driveway. Our cocker spaniel is fascinated by the show we call 'Neighbours', and she loves the one where she watches her back yard for hours and hours on end.

You know how, when you have a pet, it's mental, no matter how cute everyone says it is? It's like that with every pet that ever came through this household. Every fish we ever got were live-eating cannibals, my sister's rabbits were rampantly homosexual and rampantly homophobic, respectively, the cats never grew up to cat-size and sleep in hay and our dog is simply crazy. She loves dragging empty toilet paper rolls and flattened plastic bottles around. She drags slippers and socks and (if she can get a hold of it) clean underwear to her nest and falls asleep on top of them. She's afraid to be on grass alone. She wants to climb every ledge she sees, like some kind of floppy-eared, long-haired mountain goat with teeth. She refuses to eat in the dark. She likes lying spreadeagled on her back. She tries to be psychic and guess what you want from her as soon as you're holding something she knows is a treat. Oh, and she eats fruit and vegetables. If it has a distinct flavor, or juice, she'll gobble it down. Carrots, strawberries, grapes, apples, potatoes, bananas, tangerines... If you're eating one, she wants it.

My mother occasionally says loudly how she's going to sell the mutt so she'll be rid of it and my little sister who swore up and down that she'd help take care of it loves to point out that it's MY dog. Both won't let me take her to Germany. There is no argument that will sway them. I can't take my own dog with me. The fact that my blisters will heal and my ankles are getting better and you're allowed to bike with a dog in Germany, so she'll get more exercise, don't count. The idea that I might feed her is ludicrous, apparently. My boyfriend might be wrapped around her paw to the point where I joke he has two girlfriends, but she is staying where she is.

I have lost my own dog.

My boyfriend's parents have offered a solution, though. Their favorite dog, a tiny little mixed breed with a diva attitude the size of Jupiter, is very likely pregnant. The puppy, or maybe even puppies, are expected to be born in late July, early August. They're accidents, and promise to be adorable as heck. I'm not so sure, though.

They're the offspring of tiny dogs. This has three very big downsides to me. Firstly, they're toy breed and I can't think of any toy breed that was bred for obedience rather than adorableness. If I get another dog, I want one that has the ability to listen to me. Secondly, the puppies will be tiny. As much as I love my dog, I hated her stature as a puppy the size of these puppies' mom. Grooming, correcting, rewarding, teaching... You have to do it while bent over double, and still be authoritative. Not a small feat and not one I have fun in accomplishing. Thirdly, the grown dogs will be tiny, and I trip over small things. Yes, I am a klutz, but I'm aware of the fact. In the battle of gravity vs 70+ kilo woman vs 2 kilo dog, the dog loses.

And I'm not sure I want a puppy again. Yes, they're cute and adorable and every time I see one, the words 'I want one' gush out of my mouth unbidden. But they also need to pee every hour, destroy all you hold dear while they're teething (my dog even tried to go for the walls at some point) and no one appreciates your attempts to socialise them to not beg for the attention and cooing of random passer-bys.

Oh, and the boyfriend wants a pig. Or a rabbit the size of a duck-tolling retriever. Or an indoor cat. Or a puppy, sure. If we had the room, he'd want all four, maybe more. But the apartment is tiny and not on the ground floor and I'm not much of a cat person. So he's asked me what I want.

I think I know what I want.