She is the softest, sweetest, most adorable package of commitment that I have ever received. She is mine. Restatement, she is ours. My boyfriend and I have just purchased a baby, for a pricey sum greater than the value of my 1993 Geo Metro, she is expected to run nearly as long and with added bonuses. A dark brown brindle with passionate chocolate eyes and a surreal blackness across her face, my new love. For a girl with a self-professed heart of steel, I have easily crumbled in her paws.
But back to the commitment, the enormity has yet to hit me and I worry that I will one day face the similar situation a friend and her boyfriend faced. Upon a sudden and painful breakup they were faced with the challenge of sharing their baby, a three year old mutt. After only three months of this mutual parenting of one dog in two different cities, she decided to back down and acquire a new, and personally owned pup. I dread this situation becoming my own. I think we are different, but then again, who actually thinks of themselves as the same as another?
Aside from the fear of commitment that this little puppy drags out of me, I am also a little nagging bitch that erupts on a minute by minute basis. After 16 years of raising a schnoodle of my own, I feel that somehow my brain is stacked full of knowledge that my boyfriend will never comprehend. Therefore, it is my responsibility to inform him, remind him, and nag him until he snaps at me, which he miraculously has yet to do, for I guarantee that my patience would be less than parallel. I somehow don't think that the pup can understand his "sit" as well as mine, I don't think he has the skill required to have the pup perform the basic bathroom habits outside the door, I don't believe he knows quite correctly how to walk her when it is quite apparent that at 9 weeks there is no likelihood of her being able to walk on a leash at all. I am a bitch, more likely a cow, whatever I am, I am something horrible that is growing more and more unbearable daily. Perhaps I will explode, and spew a pile of rubbish smelling phlegm across our apartment. Or if luck is on my side, perhaps I will transform. Perhaps I will relax and let "him" fumble through the joys of new pet ownership without my snarky comments. I will hand him the leash, give him permission to walk the pup alone, permit him to call her when he sits upon the couch, perhaps I will allow him to do the same as I do and make mistakes without the facing the rath from hell, aka me.
Her name is Jada, her name means "protection, love and attracts money". Three wonderful things that we all deserve a little more of. I can only pray that my boyfriend will not be the one requiring protection from my barking, that he will not find the pup's love to be more perpetual than mine and that we both will not be sapped of funds when Jada continues to grow and grow and grow whilst consuming mass amounts of pricey organic BARF raw food. She will protect us, strengthen our love and attract a wealth of funds for us to enjoy each day without a single responsibility to drag us apart.
