Seems when I least expect it, I realise something new about myself.
This weekend I’m back at my cousin’s house for more dog sitting. I’m here, this time, because she gave her mom a new dog last weekend for Mother’s Day. The dog is cute – she’s a Chihuahua called Little Bit. Part of my instructions were to take Little Bit with me if I went anywhere other than the supermarket. She’s got a pink handbag-like doggie carrier á la Legally Blonde. I’ve never carried a dog like that before in my life, but I thought I’d give it a go. Last night after Pizza Hut wouldn’t answer after 3 calls – 20 rings each – I decided to go for Wendy’s. So I tuck her into the bag and she won’t stay in. As soon as I put it on my shoulder, half her body is out of the bag. Ugh. We went anyway and by the time I pulled out the driveway, she was out of the bag on the seat. That was no big deal cos I’d attached her to the bag with the little clip. But then, of course, she wants to be in my lap. No way. My first accident was due to a dog being in my lap. Not going there ever again. With me it’s either in the seat beside me or in the back. Or no go.
She follows me around the house wanting to be carried. I don’t do that either.
I love dogs. I’d do most anything to help one. But I do not baby dogs. I’d never manage with a Chihuahua. They’re too tiny. Too fragile.
Not to mention she snores horribly. LOL