My "Other" Man

There's a new man in my life. I'm in love. And to all of those doggie lovers out there (you know who I'm farking talking about) I am a convert. I've always liked the idea of dogs but never wanted to deal with the poo and wee etc I dont mind other peoples dogs, I freak out and run and scream if theres a dog on the loose out on the street (no matter what the size or disposition) and now I know its all worth it. He's just so cute and lovely and such a sweet good little doggie I just cant help myself. He soothes my soul. He keeps me so busy wiping up poo and pee that I dont have time to eat (The Pet Lovers Guide to Weightloss). He has added some issues to my life but he takes alot of them away also and I am really quite used to him now (two days later). It is only early days but I just feel we were meant to be.

You see, we've been thinking about getting a dog for quite some time now and thought it might be a good settling technique for the kids when we move to Melbourne and it would have been a smart idea to wait until that time however..... we were in a shopping centre on Saturday and we always like to look in the pet shops and of course I knew that the first puppies we saw we were going to get and thats just what happened. We've been looking at toy poodles - they dont drop hair, they're small, easy to handle, they're smart, they need lots of smothering love (bring it on kids), the do small poos and wees and they're just so cute even when full grown. So when we saw this little guy it was love at first sight. He was also born on the 11th and I've been having a weird freaky relationship with 11's lately and he's all black with one white paw so of course he looks like Michael Jackson and he died just 2 days before so of course it was all too serendipitous and I just couldnt resist.

Now before you all freak and think we rushed into - yes you're probably right but to counter act that we're very responsible pet owners and we will evolve to make it work should it all turn pear shaped (We have kept Damien, afterall). We had intended to go to some sort of shelter to "rescue" a lil sad doggie but it just didnt spin that way and now we have this little ball of fluff. And no he doesnt have some frou frou name like Fluffy or Widget or Muffy his name is Peter. Yes, Peter. Not MJ (Michael Jackson was his name in the shop) Brett, Shane, Warren, Craig or any other plain as an arrowroot biscuit anglo name but Peter. Named by the girls and it's stuck. He his slightly homosexual in his prancing show doggie ways but man I just cannot express how terribly cute he is and what a smart lovely good little guy he is. We have established a bed time routine and he sleeps in the laundry with the love song request radio station on. He whinges for a little bit and then we dont hear a peep from him all night. Didnt expect that! On the first night I woke up in a cold sweat at 4.30am with the full knowledge that he was dead because he hadnt whinged all night like everyone said he would. (Oh God I'm turing into one of those people who talk about their dogs. But I swear this is different. He's just so cute and lovely.) He wasnt dead just very very good but I still think he's going to die and I therefore only let him out of my sight to sleep (My love has limits).

I guess I just need to get this off my chest you see, we've had a sensational little pet like Peter before and I recognise the same soulful loveliness in Peter that I saw in the last pet and the last pet didnt last. It was a sweet little baby budgie called Chippie and lets just say for now that 3 year olds can love baby budgies a little too much. I nursed the tiny injured baby budgie for 3 days before he was sadly found dead. And I obviously havent recovered. If I even hear a sound in the same pitch as that of a desperate baby budgies screech for help I lose bowel control. Every whimper Peter lets out leaves me convinced he has met his end in some horrendous rabbit trap and my husband isnt here so I'll have to deal with it all alone. I am starting to calm down and realise that he has the innate animal instinct to survive and that combined with my overbearing need to protect him has seen him through his first 2 days here in the pet house from hell (Damien is now almost 5 so things look a little brighter for Peter) but I swear I still think he's going to die. He has the essence of a life that is only going to be short. Please everyone tell me I'm wrong and mental. I need some sleep. But then again, I think I have lost weight.....