baby

At twenty-something, I haven't yet thought about parenting. Despite discussing future plans about marriage with ze boyfriend, I've always thought kids were an idea never to be discussed except when they actually happen. I do love babies. Babies. Pudgy cheeks and cherubic features that smile and need not be fed or changed. The kind that you could borrow for a couple of hours, something that can be returned to the person who spawned it when it poops. So you see, I am not ready to parent a tiny, screaming, high-maintenance infant yet. I still need parenting myself. As to why I thought I could handle a dog is still a mystery to me.

Five years ago, sophomore year in college, a close friend asked if I would be willing to adopt a dog. Because I had cared for a cat when I was younger, I thought caring for a dog would be the same. Feed it, bathe it, a little pat now and then and that's it. Only a few months after did I realize what a big responsibility it was to take care of something so fragile as a pup. I expected my Mother to take care of the darling little thing since I always had school work to finish. Oh boy. When your parents teach you responsibility, they teach you responsibility. There were times when I'd come home from the hospital late at night, folders bulging with things I needed to finish by dawn, that Mum covered for me.

For someone who has always been cared for, caring for something besides myself felt like a chore. Like doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. It was hard work. It felt like hard work. A year passed and the sweet little pup grew big enough that I couldn't lift her without breaking my spine. Because she dislikes bathing, I always had to carry her around when it was time to clean her up. It was then that Mum decided I needed help. It did not even take a year for us before we felt like we had another member of the family. A baby.

She has always been there for me, an unfailing support system that kept me sane. Someone I could confide in without fear of ridicule. Someone who loves me unconditionally. She sleeps when I sleep, eat when I eat, do everything I do. Like a shadow. Like an extension of myself, an extension of my personality. She is spoiled rotten and given everything she wants. She hates dog food and prefers human food instead. She loves ice cream and cake frosting. She adores meat too. She has sole ownership of the couch and she knows when to demand that we take things off her territory. She knows how to ask for attention too.

This afternoon, I noticed she wasn't in her best mood. I don't think she is feeling as fit as a fiddle as of a while back. Mother's instinct, you know. Now I am worried sick. I hope it's not a tummy bug or something. She doesn't have fever and she seems to be sleeping soundly. Tongue out, she's sprawled over her favorite place. Beside me. I think I'd stay up late. Just to watch her breathe. In case she would ask for anything, ya know. I really hope - and pray - she'll be okay and back to barking at new things by tomorrow. Yes, that's her and Mums legs. Haha.