Nicole +1.
For the past few years I've been dreaming of having my own place so I
could finally get a puppy. My friend Sophie has the most adorable boxer
named Lily. Sophie's dad is a vet and there has never been a more
healthy, happy, or meticulously groomed dog. I usually have terrible
allergies with dogs, but due to Lily's near-daily baths, she and I
became fast friends. It was at that point in my life I realized I could
maybe, someday, actually like and own a dog. More specifically, this
dog:
Who can resist a face like that?
Thanks Getty for
the boxer pics!
Alas, when I moved into my 550 square foot condo, I realized that a
hyperactive boxer would be unhappy and chew my furniture to shreds. And
then I would be unhappy. Plus, there was that pesky 20 pound pet limit
set by the HOA. So I did my research and found a few smaller breeds I
would be happy to own. First, an English Bulldog. I think they're
adorable. Like... so ugly that they've rounded the corner and become
cute? That kind of adorable. Plus, they're lazy. Perfect condo dogs...
but they can tip the scales at 55 pounds. So that didn't work either.
After lots of reading, searching, and discussions with vet friends, I
found the perfect dog for this stage of my life. A french bulldog.
He's adorable, right? His name is Edgar (after Edgar Allen Poe), or
Harold. Or Frued. Well, if he was my dog his name would for sure be
Freud. It just seems to match the sweater, right? Not that any dog I
own will ever wear a sweater, but still. You get the picture. Freud and
I were going to be great friends; we both like to watch The Hills, go
for evening walks, take naps and cuddle.
And then reality set in. Can I care for a puppy when I work 25 minutes
from home and am gone 10-12 hours at a time on a regular basis? The
selfish side of me said it would be fine, but the damn Jimminy Cricket
on my shoulder kept nagging that a puppy needs more time than I can
commit to for now. And so the puppy dream has been moved to the
back-burner once again. C'est la vie, my friends.
Meanwhile, my mother began to scheme..
When I was in college my friend's family cat had a litter of kittens.
Now, I don't like cats. But kittens? You have to be dead inside to not
like kittens. Especially a puffy orange one that more closely resembled
a baby chick in size and puffiness than a cat. My parents came home
from a trip and I was like, "Surprise! We have a new little sister!"
Needless to say, they were not pleased, but in their absence the rest
of the family had become attached and it was too late to give her back.
And so she joined the Lyman clan. She was an adorable, playful kitten,
and then became a cat. But she's still pretty cute, especially for a
cat.
Since the day I brought Kitty home, she's lived at my parent's house.
I've always had a laundry list of reasons why she couldn't stay with
me: My landlord doesn't permit pets unless they live in a fish bowl, I
live in DC, Natalie hates animals... the list goes on and on. And then
I bought a condo and suddenly there were no more excuses. My mom seized
my pitiful-puppy-sadness moment and the next thing I knew there was a
cat in a crate riding in my passenger seat.
It was a long four hours. I mean, you can probably tell she's pissed
from this blurry iPhone photo, but what you are really missing from the
moment is the audio.
Think broken wind-up toy. MMRRRRrrrrreeeerrrEEERrrrrrrrr.
So Ms. Chloe and I arrived home and had a long heart-to-heart. She does
not want join me on long walks, but has promised to try watching the
Hills. I don't like cat hair in my eyes so cuddling isn't a great idea,
but I promise to scratch under her chin and pet her. Like me, she loves
naps, and prefers that they be on my bed where the feather down makes a
perfect little cat imprint for her to lie in. Which I don't love. The
thought of cat hair on my bed immediately triggers my gag reflex - and
this cat has a LOT of hair. So we agreed that if she was going to live
at my house and sleep at the foot of my bed, she needed a haircut.
Thanks to Meowser Pet Salon we are both happy with our new living
arrangement.
And furball free.
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