Learning To Love Dogs by Kate

I’ve never been a dog person. I don’t dislike dogs—I just don’t usually notice when one’s in the room, unless it’s barking or licking me or doing some other dog-like thing that makes me uncomfortable.

Andy, though, is quite a dog person. He knows all the breeds, he rolls around on the floor with them and lets them lick his face, and he even has these special canine sensory powers that alert him when there’s a large dog within 50 yards. He once made a U-turn in the middle of North Avenue, right in front of a police station, because he spotted a Great Dane. He waited in a parking lot until the dog walked by, and then got out of the car to say hello. (I was there. It was slightly less creepy than it sounds.)


Long story short: The boy needs a dog. And he’s a good person who works hard, so he deserves a dog. And that means that I’m getting a dog too—a Great Dane.

Fun fact: The tallest Great Dane is seven feet.
 “They’re so maJEStic,” Andy says.

My first thought was that I’m not really interested in picking up bowel movements the size of watermelons or making room on the couch for a hundred-pound animal, or worse, smelling like one. But soon I’ll be sharing a house and a life, and I have to abandon my brattier tendencies. So far it feels pretty good.
I’ve learned this: You know you’re in love when something that wouldn’t normally make you happy makes you happy, simply because it makes your partner happy. So I’ve come to terms with getting a dog. In fact, I’m excited about the prospect of a four-legged addition to our family (don’t tell Andy). They’re really cute, and from what I hear, Danes are gentle giants. It’ll be fun to name our dog and take it on walks, and we’ll have someone to greet us at the door and another stocking to hang at Christmas. Plus, Andy said that if he can have a Great Dane, then I can have a brand-new washer and dryer—I might not be crazy about pets, but I LOVE GE Profile front loaders.

Andy will make sure the pup gets fed and bathed and exercised, and that it doesn’t eat me. And to his chagrin, he’ll keep it out of the bed—because I can let a giant dog into my life, but not my bed. And when the time comes, I’ll embrace my role as a doggie mama and make an effort to love our furry friend until I can’t help but love it. Before long I’ll be crazy about that dog. 
I hope Andy doesn’t get jealous.
© copyright homemade grits