I’ve never been fond of dogs. I dry heave when people kiss their dogs; this includes making out. (Yes, I have seen this before and have had to leave the room; it’s very uncomfortable for me.) I find dogs generally purposeless except to dress up or go for runs. All of the other stuff, the barking, the pooping (and scooping), the hair–oh, the hair, the smell, all of these things about dogs annoy me.

Perhaps I’m my father’s daughter more than I knew. I grew up with my dad drilling into us that animals are not for company, they are for doing jobs on the farm. Animals of every species were never allowed in the house, with the exception of several fish over the years. The cats were for killing mice in the barn. (I dressed them up though when I was little enough to still like them.) Dogs were for herding the cattle. Chickens were for laying eggs and eating (both the chickens and the eggs). Cows were for selling and/or butchering. Pigs were for selling and/or butchering. Rabbits were for selling. And the occasional pony was really for no purpose except to eat grass and get fat. (Dad grew up with his grandpa being a huge horseman so maybe that’s why we were allowed a pony. I think we had grand schemes as children of saddling up the pony and galloping through the fields like Indian warriors, but our ponies never galloped. They trodded and plodded and generally hated the annoyance of having to actually carry someone on their back.)

So I think my general outlook at animals is much like my father. The biggest difference though is that if I had a dog, I would dress it up. My dad would think I would be insane. (I also desperately want a teacup pig and he laughs and laughs at me, saying, “I’ll get a teacup pig for you. In a few weeks when the sows are farrowing, there will be a teacup pig for you.” I don’t think he understands that teacup pigs never actually get big. That’s the point.)

Kevin and I have long agreed that we won’t have a dog. Even if we have children someday and they beg and beg and promise the dog would be their responsibility, we won’t get a dog.

Then we were at my parent’s house last night and Dad brought the four little week-old puppies into the entryway in a cardboard box for us to see. It was like love at first sight. They were the ittiest, bittiest little things I’ve ever seen and they just grunted and slept and whined. I picked up a little black one with the start of wavy hair like her mama and she just settled right in and slept while I held her. She had the tiniest little nails and squished up nose. She was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. If I could bottle her up and make her stay that size, I would never let her leave my side.

The second extraordinary thing that happened was that my littlest niece, Kylie, reached over to carefully pet Sam. Kylie has always been terrified of animals. From a distance, she will watch them, but she is a skilled climber into anyone’s arms if an animal starts to come closer than 500 yards. (That might be part of the reason why there are no animals allowed on the porch. It became the “safe place” for the kids to play if they wanted to be outside.) So not only did she hold the puppies, I saw her reach over and pet Sam and I thought to myself, “Wow, two miracles in one night! Too much!”

During the night, I dreamt that I bought that little black puppy at Buckle, where I’ve never shopped, along with a pair of aqua high heels and as I walked out of the store, I panicked because there was a no-return policy on the puppy and I suddenly realized that Kevin and I have to move since I bought the puppy and we aren’t allowed to have animals in our condo. I guess it’s a good thing because I’d end up spending more money on dog clothes than I do on my own wardrobe.