Where is the love?

As I'm sitting here, my worthless dog is eating a comb. Seriously. Chewing, and swallowing.

I have a dog. I know, I know. She was definitely an emotional purchase. My children made me do it. But that fact of this absurd matter is this:

-I own a dog

Someone once told me that you can tell what kind of a person someone is, by what they think of animals. Ironically enough, their statement followed my own, declaring my profound disgust of all living, non-human creatures that populate our planet; how I would rather stick my finger in a light socket, then have to pet a walking disease. Obviously, this person thought I was a gem.

It's not that I hate dogs, or any other mangy beasts. I would never harm any of those creatures. I might even say that I would go out of my way to help one, ya know, cross the street, or whatever it is you have to do to prove you are not a heartless beast yourself: I would do that! It's just the whole touching, being touched, being near, or thinking of being near any kind of creature, "issue", that I had a hard time dealing with.

Sigh.

This is where my Mom would speak up and say, "Ah come on!! Remember when you wanted to be a veterinarian when you were little!! That's all you would ever talk about."

And here's the deal. My first "official" pets were some baby kittens. They were precious. But then after Guppy ate Chade (or at least that's what I think happened. even to this day. I mean really, where did he go??), Guppy went crazy. Like crazy, crazy. And then Joey? Oh gosh. World's most retarded puppy. And trust me, I do not use "retarded" lightly. He was. Ask anyone. Then that weird looking dog named Pig. I mean, come on. I was bound to have an aversion to animals.

Turns out that kind woman's theory on creepy dog-lovers is not entirely a load of mush. I married the world's nicest human, who happens to love every kind of nasty, dirty, smelly animal to have ever lived. Except for cats. But really? Cats don't count. Everyone knows that. And, that man happened to create little offspring who also think that animals are the reason for living. Going over board? Have you met Hugh? Do you know the first thing that he asks for every morning, as I reach into his crib?

That mangy dog.

I birthed that human, and I know that he was drawn up out of my very own gene pool, even if just slightly. And ya know, I think I just might go take that comb away from the hound. I will most likely roll my eyes, and mutter some unpleasant phrases under my breath, but truth be told, I care if she dies, by various means, including swallowing foreign objects. I care. About a DOG.

And that is how I know that miracles still exist today.