I often admit here that I lack any sort of normal social abilities. I don’t know how to properly connect with people, and I certainly don’t understand how to properly converse with others. My friends are exceptions to this, because they often also share this lack of ability to behave “properly” on some level. Though I’ve known several people who’ve died, I only cried once at a funeral. I’ve always associated this with the fact I lack a sense of connection. People probably will judge me on this, or for being so blunt about it. Even on TV, I have a hard time getting upset over a death of a character. I get mad, but I quickly get over it. I sometimes think that I develop more connections with fictional characters than real ones, but even still I accept this as life.
Soon after having my son, I realized I couldn’t stand seeing a child killed on TV. I couldn’t look, even if it was implied. I don’t recall having this cringe effect prior, but afterwards I just couldn’t deal with it. Kill the adults, but leave the kids out of this. Their innocence, I just couldn’t accept that at all. I could sit through the goriest murder scene in movies if it involves an adult, but the minute a baby died on a House episode, I had to leave the room. At least that made me feel a little more human realizing I’m not a complete emotionless shell.
Last night though, I had trouble sleeping and watched TV. When I couldn’t sleep at night while pregnant, I remember every time they showed an infomercial for The Humane Society I would cry hysterically over them. I had pregnancy hormones to blame, but there was something about those shivering dogs that pulled at my ice-cold little heart. Only the cute ones though, I’m ashamed to admit. Back to the point, last night I saw an episode of “Sister Wives” where they actually showed the father digging a hole in anticipation of putting his dog to sleep. Then they showed the dog on a blanket in the yard, while you see the vet filling a needle with what was obviously the medicine to put this dog to sleep. Then they made you watch as they pet and hugged the dog as it fell asleep. Then they showed the family burying the dog. I found it offensively graphic. I found it inappropriate to air on TV. Why would you want to have cameras tape a heartbreaking moment as putting your dog to sleep? I couldn’t deal with it.
After that, I immediate whispered little Zoey’s name and called her on the bed. She climbed up and cuddled with me, and I practically fell asleep next to her. Watching that had the same effect as watching a kid on TV get hurt. I wanted to hug her and pretend she was an immortal little puppy dog, my little princess Mal-shi. Tank, while not exactly as small as Zoey, is a lovable cuddly oaf of a small dog. He thinks he’s smaller than he is, and acts like our little baby of the house.
I love my puppy sized dogs. Don’t worry, we don’t put clothes on them every day, but for silly pictures to make people either hate us or go “awwww.” I wonder if I love them more than I love most people. I probably do. Dogs are loyal, always around to love you, and keep you entertained. I don’t like cats, they don’t quite love you in the same selfless way. Will a cat claw someone who tries to hurt me or my family? Nope. Will a cat cuddle up next to my baby son and pretend that he is the baby in their litter and try to shower it with love? Nope. Plus, the advantage of having dogs over human friends is they don’t talk. They bark incessantly, they jump all over the place as if they are children. But in a way, they are my children. My furry little immortal puppy sized dogs.