Maybe in a few years

There is a picture of me as a baby sitting on a sofa at my grandma's with a little tabby kitten. Her name was Kimbie. We had her until I was 18 and eventually had to have her put down (she had abscesses in her mouth and the vet thought they were cancerous). As long as I have been alive, we have always had at least one cat, but I remember always wishing we had a dog. When I would encounter a puppy or a big, drool-ridden dog at a friend's house, I would swoon. There was no doubt in my mind that I was a "dog person," whatever that means. Fast forward 20 years... I'm not a dog person.

We got Ruby from the shelter after deciding that having a dog was the best way to keep me feeling safe when my husband is working out of town. Seriously, I have these crazy paranoid fears that people are standing in front of my window and just staring in at me while I sleep/stalk people on Facebook. It's a little out of hand, but add spiders into that mix and I will have a full-on panic attack. Think I'm joking? One time I encountered a "silver fish" that was literally stalking me around the living room. It crawled across my leg, so I flicked it off and bolted across the living room, and that little shit FOLLOWED ME!  I hopped up on our pub chair, and called Eric... who was in Washington DC at the time. Yeah, believe me when I openly admit that I have issues. Anyway, a dog. Safety. Companionship. Giving Clara what I never had growing up. All that good stuff.

It didn't work out.

Ruby was the only dog in the shelter at the time that was approved to be placed with children of any age. She was super sweet, adorable, and would let Clara climb all over her and snuggle without any complaint.

She was also a puppy, which meant her energy level was through the roof. Which was okay, until I started going to school again. While I was gone we would leave Ruby inside and play with her as much as having a baby would allow. This is not as simple as it sounds. Have you ever tried to walk a dog and a baby in a stroller at the same time? How about putting the almost 30 pound baby in a sling and walking the dog that wants to run? What about the backyard, you say? Have you ever experienced the horror of your baby trying to pick up a piece of dog shit? Clean it up, you say? Have you ever experienced a baby who only takes one mediocre nap during the day, giving you about 2 hours to squeeze in cleaning, studying, making dinner, showering and playing with the dog? Perhaps some women can handle this, but I am not one of them.

Please make no mistake, I am aware that this is our fault. I'm aware that I didn't consider the pros and cons of owning a dog before rushing out and getting one. I thought I did, but I guess I didn't. Neither Eric or I had ever owned a dog, and we were not at all prepared. We were not prepared for a dog that needed more than 2 walks and numerous play sessions every day. Not prepared for what we would be losing to chewing. We actually made amends with the chewing, realizing it was mostly our fault for leaving things out. We were not prepared for a dog that, when excited, would launch herself at every person in her vicinity, hurling her entire body weight through the air and knocking that person senseless.  Especially not prepared for that person to be my 1 year-old baby. We were not prepared for how aggressive Ruby got when she was bored, not trying to hurt and only wanting to play, but being way too rough for our baby, our cats and me. My arms were chewed on numerous times in a less than delicate manor. The biggest problem, aside from the terror inflicted on our cats, is that I was yelling at her all the time. I'd get so frustrated and overwhelmed with life, and Ruby was the closest source, so I'd yell. About everything. Always. I realized that Clara spent a considerable amount of time hearing me yell about things that didn't even matter, and that is NOT how I want my child to remember me.

But then... there was night time. No matter how energetic she was, she would always lay next to me on the couch and lie under my feet, and when it was time for bed she would follow me to the room. She'd either lay down in her bed next to mine, curl up with a sigh and sleep, or she'd hop up and sleep against my legs. When I woke up she would stay in bed with me until I got up. Sometimes when she was particularly impatient, she'd lick my face and lie across my stomach until I got up.

If Clara was crying over the monitor and I didn't hear it right away, Ruby would stand over me and whine until I woke up and got her. She'd run into Clara's room, hop up against the crib and try to lick her face, which of course made Clara scream with delight.

Even though at the core of things, Ruby was a great dog, we just weren't the right family for her. At least not in this phase of our lives. She deserves to be with a family who has the time to play, to take her on hikes or who at least has a bigger backyard than our little shoe-box property. She needs kids who want to play with her and don't get frustrated when she smothers them with kisses and knocks them over with her enthusiasm. Make no mistake, I am going to feel like shit every time Clara wakes up and immediately points to the hall and says, "doggy!" I am going to feel like a hypocritical coward every time I feel unsafe at night or lonely in bed. But Ruby is with a family (who we know, if we ever want to visit) with a huge backyard, another dog and two little boys that are ready to run with her until she drops. And I know she will be much happier.

If you think I'm deplorable, please reserve judgment. This was a really difficult decision, and I already feel like a selfish jerk. If it's hurtful or harsh, please keep it to yourself. And about me being a dog person? Maybe we'll try again in a few years when Clara is older. Maybe. For now I'll settle for being the crazy cat lady.

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