We were like many a newly wed couple- ready to expand our family but not ready for kids. We did the next best thing: We got a dog. Not just any dog, a poodle. A standard poodle, who according to dog experts, have a knowledge of human vocabulary that is equal to that of a two year old. No, really, it's true.
We did what all new dog owners do: We dressed him up in hats, celebrated his birthday and compared notes on dog parks. We grew him a goatee, because he was special, he was uniqute. We rolled our eyes at people who loved cats. He once ate half a chocolate bar and I called the vet frantically on a weekend, afraid the chocolate would kill him. As if.
We talked about our dog as if he were a child, treated him very much like was child.
That is, until we had a child.
Oh, poor Oliver. He's still so pissed.
But he's getting better. Since the kids came along he's eaten (in no particular order) a bag of powdered sugar (making him cough delicately all night like a little old lady), countless counter snatches of things left unattended for .02 seconds, an big fat Rueben sandwich, whole bunches of bananas (but never ever the peels) and my personal favorite, an entire rotisserie chicken. Every single bit of it. Again I called the vet, not because I really believed he would die, but because I didn't want him to die on my watch. He didn't die, he just had a really bad case of the shits.
I don't feel guilty, thank goodness my husband loves him enough for both of us. Sorry Oliver. I want to love you like I used to, but with a family of humans to tend to, there is just nothing left for a stinky creature who needs things. And eats chickens.
This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Burger King Corp. This week, we're helping Burger King get the word out about their latest line of Club BK toys - iDogs!
