Practice

Her name is Zoey. She is a blue pit bull. She is amazing.

Originally, my new roommate Farming Punk inquired if we were interested. Me and Mocha pretty much balked. We were still settling into the place. But then one night he brought her over and we were enamored suckers. She's been with us for about 5 weeks. And now she's getting big and feisty and chewing on everything. But she's still so adorable. You just have to love her.

This morning, as I hazily watched her find a suitable spot in the grass, my mind drifted to the parallels between taking care of her and being a parent to a human being. I was awakened only moments before by her hysterical yelps. And the helpless little thing did her business. I was proud of her. I was proud of an animal for performing its bodily functions in a suitable manner outside my living space. Where does this love come from?

I could draw a spiritual link here, but I feel I'd be undercutting it. Now coming upon her 12th week of life, she is approaching the dog equivalent of the terrible two's. Lately she's clawing and chewing up everything. I've paused from writing this post eight times just to grab some random item out of her mouth. She's a treasure though. Growing up in an apartment, I was deprived of this pleasure. But so far so good. I'm still learning. But then I remember that she is too.