Guess what I got for Christmas? You are never going to believe this. The Carpenter made my only Christmas wish come true: he got me a puppy.
Well, I should clarify: he let me have a puppy. It’s almost the same thing, right? In other words, he caved to my repeated pleas for a puppy that started in October but reached a fever pitch around mid-December.
His declaration of defeat sounded like this: “If you want to get a dog – if that will make you happy – then for the love of Pete, get a damn dog.” It was a Hallmark moment for sure.
Like every Christmas in our 20-year history, the Carpenter’s idea of getting me the perfect gift basically means letting me pick it out myself, wrap it and put it under the tree whereby I would feign surprise with a well rehearsed line like, “Wow, this is exactly what I wanted. How did you know?” and he would take full credit for being the most thoughtful gift giver ever.
The puppy was no exception. I got to research the breed, then go in search of the pet who needed a home, arrange the financing for the dog and all required accessories and coordinate the pick-up, which involved going out of town to seal the deal. The Carpenter is a very thoughtful man. Surely you know that was said in jest. The Carpenter knew I needed a puppy to love. It has been months since we lost Blake, our beloved dog of 17 years. We swore there would never be another dog. Well, he swore by using language most inappropriate and that ended the conversation (Leos always win). There would never be another dog in our house. That was final.
Believe it or not, I accepted my fate in the matter. In marriage, as in parenting, you have to pick your battles. I figured I would rather die on a different mountain, as they say. Besides, I still fantasize about a completed renovation. That would be my next battle. Yet, once a dog lover, always a dog lover, and there has been a hole in my heart since Blake passed. Nothing else would fill that. The Carpenter knew it.
I chose a crossbred puppy; two miniature breeds. She is half German and half Mexican, or what we’ve come to refer to as a Sch-huahua (I can’t make this stuff up people, my life really is stranger than fiction). She is a real live chewing, peeing, nipping ball of fluff. Having a puppy is like having a baby all over again, without the weight gain and college education fund. I am in love.
I have turned into a 40-something mother of two whose children are increasingly independent, whose spouse works too much, and thus, I need something to cuddle.
The turtle won’t allow it, the fish are indifferent and the cat thinks I am ridiculous. Since the Carpenter wouldn’t allow me to have a pool boy (not for a lack of trying), I got my puppy fix. Either way, I’d have to train them, so I’ll take the dog. Yes, I am officially pathetic.
I knew I had sunk to an all-time low when I found myself buying the puppy outfits (thank goodness even pet store fashions have a sale rack). I cannot believe that I have fallen for a tiny dog, but it’s true. I am smitten.
The Carpenter just may be the best gift-giver ever.