Thursday, December 30, 2010

A Dog

So. We're considering one. A dog, that is. CONSIDERING. As in, eventually the troops will peck and peck and peck at my resolve and we'll get a canine for our family so that I will have someone to clean up after to curb my baby-itis.

Anyway. In all of this consideration, we've been looking at the different breeds and discussing what types or mixes of types we'd be willing to adopt. Beagles are close to our top for their cuteness factor and terrier mixes are a definite Maybe because of their non-shedding qualities due to Justin's allergies.

Because I am married to a Manly Man, he would like something a little sturdier than a floppy-eared beagle or long-haired, be-ribboned terrier. His idea of a "DOG" is an animal whose feet can adequately cause all feeling to leave your OWN feet when it's stepping on you. I discovered (via a 5-year-old tattle tale) that he and Corinne visited a pet shop the other day, "just to look around." I also discovered that he has VASTLY different ideas of appropriate family dogs than I do when Corinne sadly declared that she really didn't want a "punching dog".

"A what?"

"A Punching Dog. You know, the ones that stand up and punch." she demonstrates with little curved fists. Pow! Pow! at the air in front of her.

"I have no idea what a Punching Dog is, Corinne. What do they look like?"

"They're just dogs with faces that go like this (scrunches up) and they punch people! You KNOW, Mommy!! PUNCH-ING DOGS." She clearly thinks I am addled.

I pause and pause and think and consider and watch her demonstrate an invisible battle until finally...

"A BOXER?!? A Boxer Dog? Is that what you mean?!?"

"Yes! The ones that punch people! I don't want one that punches people."

Me neither.
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