Never Say Never

I've never been much of a pet person. Growing up, that was my sister's job. I am not exaggerating when I say that she would gladly throw herself in front of a bus if it meant saving a fuzzy, four-legged creature. At any given time in our home, you might find hamsters, cats, dogs, rabbits, guinea pigs, and during one season, a cage full of tiny white mice, crawling all over each other. My sister was rarely seen without a dog sleeping next to her, or a cat draped around her neck, or a rodent scurrying up her arm. She was clearly born with the animal-loving gene, and I decided early on that I was not.

My husband was even more animal-averse than I, so when we married in 1991, we jointly declared that our residences from that point forward would be animal-free. Don't get me wrong-we would pet furry friends along the way, and thought they were really cute...but we could never comprehend why you would voluntarily sign up for cleaning shedding hair off your new sofa, finding sticky accidents on your lovely wood floors, and paying for shots and food and medical check-ups...wasn't it hard enough to do those things for the humans in the home? I remember friends agonizing over the decision of whether or not to have their pets put to sleep when they were old, or ill, and watching the pain they endured after losing their dear companions. I wondered why anyone would subject themselves to such trauma-was it really that worth it to have an adoring fan who would greet you at the door each day?


These were some of the arguments I gave when Cameron first brought up the puppy possibility. Along with the fact that I would, without question, end up being the one to remember to feed it and walk it and clean up the messes. And what happened to you, anyway? You were with me every time the girls approached the idea...when did you turn to the dark side? Remember how we failed miserably during our two brief pet attempts? The fish who catapulted itself out of the bowl and the rabbit whose skiddish claws scared our daughters so much that they wouldn't take him out of the cage? When did you decide that this family was fit to train and raise a living, breathing puppy?


But in the still of night, when the snow plows were so loud I couldn't sleep, I began to think about the soft fur of a baby puppy. I remembered watching our Texas neighbors out in the front yard with their brand new Lab puppy, rolling balls and playing fetch, spending hours becoming life-long companions. I began to google youtube clips of every imaginable breed, reading up on which ones do well in apartments, get along with kids, are easier to housebreak...I was becoming obsessed.


And then, one afternoon, Cameron had the audacity to email this to me.

A picture from the breeder. A tiny little maltese girl with an Alfalfa-esque sprig of hair that still, to this day, will not lay all the way down. And that was all she wrote. This was our new baby. Little Piper. The sweet bundle of tomboy and princess all rolled up into one precious ball of fluff. The tiny tongue that kisses you like you're the greatest person God ever created. The proud prancer who carries her teething bones across the room like they're made of 14-karat gold. The sweet little friend that loves all four of us in completely different ways. We've had her for two months now, and we already can't remember what life before Piper was like.

I never dreamed we would have wee-wee pads, crates and exercise pens taking up so much real estate in our little apartment. I never dreamed my girls would actually get up in the middle of the night to take a puppy to the bathroom. I never dreamed I could love a dog so much.

But as I'm learning more and more the older I get, never say never.