I never wanted a dog
I didn’t want a dog. I have to confess to that. There were no yearnings for a best friend. Not once. I had no sentimental urges to personify an animal. I’d no interest in Black Beauty. I didn’t want to curl up in a sleeping bag with Timmy from the Famous Five. I couldn’t even fathom why people had dogs. I thought they were hairy, stinky animals who curled up on the couch when you weren’t looking.
So when I looked at dogs I thought “Yikes!” Yikes because I’d once run, adrenalized, through the fields as a teenager, away from what seemed to be a rabid wolf. Dogs saw you as prey, I thought, and given the chance, they would bite you. Wasn’t that a sign that dogs and I would never be friends? That some people are dog people and some people are….well some people are not?
And it would have stayed that way. I would have been happy without the chewed up rubber balls and the hellish mess in the garden. Only trouble was, my son Aiden had a dog shaped hole that just had to be filled. He asked if he could have a dog and I said yes, but only at a future date. And then I forgot all about it.