Bourgeois dilemma #3: i've turned in to a dog person

most of my life, I have been characterized as afraid of dogs. my own personal mythology encompassed a matching pair of russian wolfhounds that terrorized me on the suburban street of my childhood home with their grand pointed noses about eye level with my smaller self. only recently was that memory adjusted by my sister, 9 years my senior, who informed me that the dogs were dachshunds. no matter, I just never really clicked with the idea of a dog. gerbils yes, and a series of goldfish poignantly named "cat" and "dog." but my mother was allergic so we were not a dog house and that lack of canine connection left me wary of the drooling, jumping on you, sniffing at your crotch and smelling bad scenario that I associated with dogs. even to the point where I would mock my college roommate when she would call home and inquire sweetly after "Boo and Sham" her little hounds named for Bristol VT and, of course, Chamonix.

I did have a minor connection with my first love's dog, some kind of shaggy medium dog named, of all things, Muffin. But in retrospect maybe it was just the glaze of 16 year old first love syndrome that made his entire household seem special and glowing to me.

Recently, however, I gave in to the pleas of my sweet husband and both of my pet starved children. And we got a DOG. We tried a friend's on for size first, dog sitting Teddy for a weekend and then a week. Seemed to go ok. We signed up with Teddy's breeder but were disappointed when his parents struck out three times. So moved on to another breeder of the same type of dog and received the birth announcement of the litter on January 9th. So "teal" as in the color of yarn around his neck became Milo.

And something deep inside of me started to change.

We watched Milo grow over the days and weeks and finally he came home to us on April 1st. Thank god, my sweet husband grew up with dogs and has been an absolute genius at training Milo. No marley, this dog does what he is supposed to do outside and since we are much stricter parents to him than we've ever managed to be to our own kids, he hasn't ruined anything. now, I will say that in spite of the fact that he's a good deal bigger than originally planned (he is, after all, the unlikely combination of a toy poodle father and a golden retriever mother with the unfortunate name of golden doodle), i am mad for this dog.

i guess i knew it when one early morning (the 6:30 am walk is happily mine) some jogger said wow that dog is looking up at you with such admiration and my heart swelled. no one really comments out loud when you are having a sweet loving moment with your kids, so the last public commentary I have had on my parenting was when I was 9.5 months pregnant with my tiny daughter and people would say things like gee, you're so big you must be having twins. doesn't exactly warm the cockles of your heart.

but I really knew it when one day not long ago, as I was crossing the street with Milo and my sweet husband was walking along with me (yes, we leave our children alone in the apartment while I walk the dog. one reading, the other sleeping - feel free to call DFS!) and we came across one of milo's pals, a golden retriever pup named buddy. and, as if possessed, a high pitched voice came out of my very own mouth in a sort of yelp screech ohhh milo, look there's buddy, don't you want to play???!!!

my husband stopped cold in his tracks and looked and me as if I was nuts and promptly took off into the park as if being chased by a mugger. Naturally I went on about my business and took milo down to the section where all of his morning playdates are. hudson the boxer, prince the black lab, babka the havanese, the unnamed "unfriendly" dog help tightly by the man who for some unknown reason insists on walking him right through the off leash dog hang out early morning area. I could go on. And let me attest to the fact that in some 12 years so far of having playground age children in NYC, I have not once had an idle first name basis or made a friend with the parent of another child. I am not that mommy. I am the mommy huddled on the bench reading a magazine or conducting a phone call or posting some witty status on fb from my iphone. I am not chatty mommy. well, not a chatty human mommy. but with milo, it's different. he needs me to know these characters - morty, adrianne, oliver, meg, karl - the DOG PEOPLE. and I do.

It's even deeper than that. on my birthday, my sweet husband offered to take the morning walk so I could read in bed. he went, but only with 10 minutes of instruction as to where to go, how to stay away from the unfriendly dog and how to make sure he didn't get in to trouble. and every time I go to the pet store to pick up some necessary supply, I find myself like a grandparent unable to control the urge to buy milo a new toy. I have referred to myself many times as milo's mommy. and in the car, with a lifetime of sailing and long car rides under my belt, at age 43 I find myself with the onset of empathetic canine induced carsickness. helpful as if you can anticipate when the dog might lose it, you can contain it much more readily. so I am the dog puke canary in the coal mine in the family now.

Milo is away just now - last week I taught him how to swim at the beach - he made me so proud. he's off with my sweet husband and the girls for a week of camp daddy in the mountains so I can have the dream of working as long as I want with no interruptions, eating my cereal standing up at the counter and actually reading a book. but when I came home tonight and there was no goofy puppy pawing at his crate wagging his whole body waiting for me, it was hard.

maybe, just maybe, tomorrow at around 6:30 I will go for a jog in the park and just amble through the dog area to see who's there.