I feel like a single mom these days.
For real. While Vince might look cute here, he’s not so precious when I’m struggling to wipe his paws clean of the mess he made in his kennel. Nor is it cute when he steals my towel from the bathroom as I shower. Or when he barks like a banshee as I leave for work (despite the calming narration of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy audiobook).
It is cute when he curls up on my bed, though. And when we play ball. And when he cocks his head as he runs toward me. He also has the teensiest paws. Well, teeny compared to what I’m used to.
Vince drives me nuts sometimes, and I’m not looking forward to a long winter of morning walks (especially not when I live 8 stories above the ground).
I don’t like complaining, so don’t think i am doing that in the slightest. It’s been a darn good run so far. And if being a single mom means I get to wake up to that sweet face each morning, then sign me up for a subscription to Parenting magazine and hand over the keys to the minivan.
Ew. No. Never. I do not like referring to myself as the “m” word. Got carried away.
Thanks for reading.
