Adventures in Puppy Sitting.

I was curious. The idea of Eric and I having our own baby has been knocking a lot lately at my 38-year old ego. The whens and ifs and should and should nots continue to agitate me and I’m not sure what to do. My doctor keeps reminding me that I not only have a 38 year old ego....I have 38 year old ovaries.

I was curious so I agreed. Our ultimate frisbee friends and down the hall neighbors Martin and Tiffany were going to a wedding in Tennessee and asked us to watch their 10-week old puppy, Ladybird. A beagle/hound mix, BIRD as we called her, was to be our self-designated “toe dip” into the steps toward parenthood. Whether Eric knew that I was thinking this or not was irrelevant. I was curious. Do I have what it takes to be a good parent. You always hear people say that if you want to have a baby, start off with a puppy. I needed to know and this was my first opportunity to find out.

What I found out is that parenting BIRD for the weekend was incredibly inconvenient, extremely exhausting, somewhat agitating, a bit messy, and....

....I miss her.

Overall, I was proud that Eric and I didn’t talk “baby talk” to BIRD, and I didn’t refer to him as “Daddy” and he didn’t refer to me as “Mommy”. We did catch ourselves taking pride in if she pooped or not, and monitoring how much she drank and where she was at all times. It seemed that BIRD always had to be right next to one of us, either chewing on a rawhide or sleeping. It was loving and sweet and adorable. Till she cried. If she couldn’t see one of us she cried. If she was put into her crate at night she cried. She cried so hard the first night that Eric grabbed the pillow that he previously attempted to smother himself with and slept on the couch. That way BIRD could see him from her crate containing the large lavender doggie bed decorated with dancing cartoon monkeys. Eric slept on the couch all weekend, clothes thrown across a chair ready to be thrown on when she needed to go out. And she needed to go out. She needed to go out a lot. A puppy’s bladder can only last 2-3 hours, hours which included 12 midnight and 3:30AM.

One of the coolest things about the weekend was that no one knew that BIRD wasn’t really our dog. To the outside world, she was ours. So we went with it. We stopped when little people or big people wanted to pet her. We could tell them her name, how old she was and other general chatter. We said thank you when they complimented her cuteness as if we conceived her. We were parents talking about their kid. We seemingly belonged. Without realizing it, we were welcomed into this culture of people we never noticed before. A “Dog Brigadoon” filled with owners that roamed the sidewalks at such odd-yet-routine times of day. On Saturday alone, Eric met Kevin and his dog WALLY on a walk, then later I met his wife Megan and WALLY on another walk, then late that same night we meet them both with WALLY on yet another walk. We had never before even seen each other let alone met, yet in one day had seen and talked three times. We’ve all lived in the same building for the last 4 years.

When Tiffany came to pick up BIRD Sunday night, I was ready. I was ready and I wasn’t ready. I was ready for a good night’s sleep, I was ready to have clean clothes with no dog hair on them, and I was more than ready to do what I want whenever I wanted without a crying dog at my heals. But I miss her laying next to me in my office while I’m working and I miss watching TV while rubbing her belly. I miss talking to her. I realized that if taking care of a puppy is an indication of what kind of parent we’re going to be then Eric and I will do okay. We were pretty much good partners the whole weekend and split the burden and the rewards evenly. We enjoyed it and we hated it at the same time. Most importantly I realized that I’m not quite ready. Perhaps I’ll wait till next year when the doctor reminds me that I have 39 year old ovaries. Then we’ll get a puppy.