Today I attempted to sew a ripped part of a stuffed octopus. “Oh,” you are asking, “Is it a favorite toy of your grandchild?” No, no. It is my granddog’s toy. He will most likely rip it to shreds much faster than I took trying to save it.
I don’t mind trying to fix it even though I am not a pet person. It is true. I don’t plan to ever own a dog or any other pet. My husband agrees. Please don’t judge us.
A friend of mine recently admitted to a room full of people that she does not like dogs, and there was a hush among the group. It was as if she said something sacrilegious. I’m sure they were thinking, “How can anyone not like dogs?!!!.”
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike animals. I am a “love you, love your pet” kind of person. Many of my relatives have dogs, and I help with them. I have played a game with an elderly poodle so he would take his heart medicine. I have browned beef for a vegetarian’s dog that is allergic to chicken. I have taken dogs for walks including cleaning up after them. I once sat in a room and read with a dog because it couldn’t handle being around strangers. Best of all, I have missed a walk in the woods with a close relative because her dog was a “shy pooper.”
It isn’t just dogs that I have helped care for. I have made salads for turtles, fed a hissing cat, and cleaned litter boxes more than once in my life.
It is possible that all of this just encourages me not to get a pet of my own, though I hope it shows the love I have for my family and friends. That’s about it. I would type more, but my fingers a sore from trying to push a needle through an octopus.