WARNING: There is an excessive amount of pictures of an extremely adorable puppy in this post.
DO NOT JUDGE ME.
I got a puppy. He’s a Brittany Spaniel named Mowgli, and I am in L-O-V-E.
The little shit has peed, pooped, vomited, and chewed on many different things in my home. He has kept me up until midnight and woken me at 3, for a week straight. He jumps on my legs, tears up my tights, and runs around with my shoes. Despite all these things…I love him.
I always kind of scoffed at people who made their pets the first priority in their lives. The ones who skipped events due to their animals, but now? I kinda, sorta, almost get it.
I’m not saying that Mowgli has taken over my life, but the little guy has crawled into my heart, and the first time I saw him get hurt, my heart cracked. He was nipped at by another dog and got a bite mark on his face and he was howling in an extremely shrill way and I started crying. My chest constricted, my eyes filled up, and it was all so uncontrollably emotional that the other dog is lucky to still be with us.
I guess I’ve learned a bit about myself. My puppy is my precious little guy. I had never really had my own pet before. I mean…my family had dogs, cats, and fish growing up, but they were all taken care of communally. I always knew that if I had plans, Fido wasn’t going to be going hungry or getting lonely in his kennel.
Mowgli is solely mine, and in the same way that getting your first apartment/house/shack/whatever is a new kind of adulthood and growing up, so is having that first pet on your own. My puppy is never going to keep me from having Christmas with my family, but maybe someday I’ll opt out of happy hour in favor of his company. Weirdly, in getting my first “real job”, renting my first home on my own, paying my way in almost all parts of my life, I’ve become a bit uninteresting. Staying in with my puppy is, at times, preferable to going out with co-workers and friends, and strangely, I’m okay with that.
I was always told about this whole growing up thing, but at 23, I’m finally starting to understand it.
(That being said, I still enjoy playing the penis game from time to time.)
Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.