Slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails....

"Every boy should have a dog to grow up with." and with these damning words, I halfheartedly agreed to getting what would fast turn out to be the bane of my existence.

You see, I've never had my own dog, my parents have had a couple when I was young, but in my childish self-absorbed state, I really didn't have much to do with them. They were just there in the background, I didn't even really notice them unless it was convenient to me to do so.

So I could almost be forgiven for allowing myself to be talked into this, and Mark turned up the very next day with a little black Pointer/Lab cross, about the size of our cat.

Cute, right?

I am not a dog person. I did not know this before we got a dog. Now that it's far too late for me to do anything about it, I am aware of it. Isn't self discovery great?

We named him Jax, and it soon became apparent that this was not something that I could put in the background unless it suited me. For a start, he has no concept of personal space. I like personal space. I'm not against casual affection as such, (ok, I am a little bit against it...) I just definitely have my boundaries. Jax does not care about boundaries. He is constantly moving, bunting, licking and snuffling at me, (do all dogs do this, or just mine?) which was only mildly annoying when he was small. Now he is the size of a small pony, and what started out as mildly annoying, is downright dangerous as he knocks me around like a chew toy.

I can not walk from the door to the car without being covered from head to toe in various dog secretions.

I can not wear light colours (not that they feature that often in my wardrobe anyway, but I do have a white coat that I've been too terrified to wear....) because his huge clompy feet are always covered in grub.

He steals a sock right off Ashdens foot every morning while I put the boys in the car. (Seriously, the child only has two pairs of matching socks left, and he only has those because I learned not to put them on until after we were all in the car with the doors shut.)

He eats/chews anything that's left lying around (including wall paper, door frames, matchbox cars, garbage, trampoline safety pads, and even sneaks inside to get the baby toys, our only baby feeding spoon and of course, more socks.)

He had a charming habit (which thankfully he got over) of running to meet me whenever I went outside, stopping right in front of me, and jumping up to bunt his nose in my face. (I just read that back, and it actually sounds kind of sweet..... obviously more detail is needed: Huge dog, flying at you at top speed, skidding to a halt at your feet (spraying you with gravel/grass/mud,) jumping straight up, less than two inches away (so more gravel/grass/mud can be flung on you via the four perilously close huge paws) and squishes his sopping grimy nose to your face. This is always done with the mouth wide open and tongue lolling out so maximum saturation can be achieved.)

He is a giant clumsy oaf, who is always in my face, looking at me with his great big saucer eyes. And I feel guilty because I don't love him.

Now, if I can get off my rant for a minute, I can say that he is actually a good dog. He doesn't bark, ever, unless a stranger comes to our house (which is really rather helpful... for me. The pizza guy didn't think so... he packed himself.) And he's very loyal, all he wants is to make us happy. I just didn't need a dog in my life. I have enough to be responsible for already.

And while it's all great to stomp my foot and throw my toys, I have to come to terms with the fact that I now have a dog. Who will potentially grow even bigger. I should probably try to get over myself and find a way to bond with him before he gets sick of trying to win my approval and just eats me.

xox