Confessions of an Anal Retentive Control Freak

Dear Sparrow:

For a year, my youngest daughter (AKA Fledgling) campaigned for a dog. 

A year.

No joke.

Seriously.

Fledgling asked, she begged, she gave me puppy dog eyes. When I would go to bed at night, I would find notes asking for a dog on my pillow, under my pillow, and taped above my bed. Sometimes, at night, when I would climb into bed, I would find a list outlining the pros and cons of dog ownership tucked into the sheets with me. Those little notes weren’t just “notes”, they were declarations of “see, I’m responsible enough to have done research - I DESERVE a dog”.

I’m not adverse to dogs. I actually love them. When my eldest daughter was a young miss she, too, wanted a dog and she got one. We had the sweetest, most loving Collie/German Shepherd mix named Chelsea and Chelsea was a star in our family. If you came near Chelsea, she would bowl you over with love and affection and want nothing more in return than that you should pay her attention and possibly scratch behind her ear. Unfortunately, when the allergies became too much for my ex-husband to bear, we moved Chelsea along to another family who loved her as much as we did and, as far as I know, Chelsea is still alive and happy with them.

I’ve always felt terrible about giving away my oldest daughter’s dog and, while I would love to say that’s the reason I don’t want one again, it’s not.  See, and here’s a confession that is going to make me look like a terrible, terrible, high-maintenance woman:

I’M AN ANAL RETENTIVE CONTROL FREAK

:-)

Dogs leave messes. They shed. They track mud and dirt into the house on their paws and they require walks which lead, inevitably, to the emptying of bowels which, inevitably, leads to me having to pick up poop in little bags which then have to be carried, often by me, until I can get home and flush it down the toilet and that’s GROSS!

 :-)

Yes. I know. I’m a terrible human being to let my needs come before my child’s desire for a puppy. I’m not afraid to admit it. I’M ANAL RETENTIVE. If you know me, you’re shaking your head in agreement. Sparrow, I can just see you nodding as you read this.

I gave in though, and, you know why? Not, unfortunately, because I learned the error of my ways but because the perfect dog presented itself. A girlfriend of mine, one that is, obviously, a much better, much less anal retentive mother than I am, was getting her child a dog that sounded like one even I, anal retentive mother, could live with.  

A Small dog.  

A non-shedding dog.

A dog that could be…drum roll please…litter trained (I know, some of you are groaning, right!).

A light bulb went off for me. Litter box training means no walking around with bags of poop on freezing Ottawa winter mornings. Non-shedding means no going out for dinner in a black outfit (it’s always a black outfit with me) with traces of dog hair all over me.

Perfect dog.

Fortunately, my girlfriend was more than happy to let me share and join in on choosing a puppy from this same litter and, now, I am a good mother who is getting to be a hero by getting her Fledgling a puppy.

I still have those notes, and drawings and lists that my Fledgling created in her yearlong campaign to get a dog.  I  tucked all that evidence into the pages of a book for “safe keeping”.  I still feel guilt over giving the sweet-tempered Chelsea away but, come August 20, I will feel like a hero and my Fledgling will finally be snuggling her very own puppy, a Yorkie. I can’t imagine a better way to move forward on our journey to a new home than with an extra family member, can you, Sparrow?

Love always, a “happiest when she’s vacuuming”, Red Bird

PS, I’m not REALLY that anal retentive, it just sounds funnier if I say I am. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!