Of Insignificant Importance

There’s nothing I love more than a very rainy day.

I know this might sound weird, as people usually love bright, sunny, warm days, but not me. Here in the Lone Star State, we have ENOUGH bright, sunny, extremely hot days to last us forever, so a nice, cool rainy day is a rarity here (or so I think). I especially love when it’s like it is now: dark, raining, and me sitting at my desk at work with the blinds to the window next to me wide open. I even keep my office lights off so all that glows is the computer monitor. I can turn my head to the left and stare out my window at the rain coming down, and wish all I want that I was cuddling up with Bella in my apartment, with a blanket wrapped around me with a cup of hot chocolate (or tea, just for Huw).

I think many people would say I appreciate rainy days like this when I’m at work simply because I CAN’T be outside frolicking around and doing “things”. I disagree. I love rainy days whenever I can get them. When Huw was here in December of last year, we had an incredibly mild winter, so our days were close to what his summer days appeared to be. He can attest to the fact that I was complaining about this; I wanted dark, cooler, winterier (it’s a word) weather (although he was enjoying a break from that very weather in Merry Old England). And the craziest thing about this is that I’m a SUMMER girl! I love hot weather and the lake and the beach and wakeboarding and walking around barefoot and all that jazz. But I suppose I’m getting to the age where I would like to see more seasons here. I would love to see the leaves turn all those beautiful colors you’d see somewhere like Boston. Instead, here you see them one day, green and swaying in the breeze on the trees, then the next they’re dead, brown, and crumbling before your eyes on the ground. I would love to know what it was like to properly “bundle up” in December, to wear scarves and buy really bulky sweaters, instead of wearing a t-shirt and taking a sweater in case the nighttime gets chilly. I guess it’s give and take when you live in a place like this.

Anyway, it’s raining. Me likey. That is all.

I truly think your pet reflects the kind of person you are.

For example, I had an ex-boyfriend who really liked cats. One of his cats, his favorite in fact, was lazy, snobby when you first met her, but then pretty sweet and affectionate once she got to know you. He was much the same. He also liked to stretch a lot.

I think my puppy reflects the “true” me as well, but I’m not sure I like what I’m seeing! She’s very much all about herself. She wants constant attention and gets extremely jealous when you pay attention to someone else (so much so that she’ll barge in on any activity so she can be the main event). She’s mean at first, but when she realizes she’s hurt someone, she’s immediately remorseful. She disobeys everyone and barely knows the word “NO!”, and certainly doesn’t listen to her mother, even if her mom knows what’s best for her. She cries when she’s left alone, but is incredibly excited when she’s reunited with someone. She’s very ready to give out love, but only when it’s convenient for her. She loves to have her ears rubbed and can eat like a maniac.

Aside from her constant need to chew on clothes, shoes, and furniture, my dog is ME. My mom told me that she was happy I picked Bella because she said she could tell straight away that Bella matched my personality. I guess she and I will get along just fine. As long as she stops chewing up my good shoes and puncturing my hands, that is.

Okay, before y'all freak out and think i'm preggers or something, here's what I mean:

I got a puppy this past Saturday. Her name is Bella (which, apparently, is the name of every other dog in the world, GAH). She's a toy poodle, apricot/cream color, 8 weeks old, and the fiestiest 3 pound ball of fur you'll ever meet. I never knew how much of a "mommy" I'd feel like until I got her. See, my family had a poodle from when I was about 5 until I was about 19. She then passed away, but we had gotten another poodle in the meantime, so I've never really been without a doggie. However, these dogs have always been primarily my mom's dogs, as she was the one who took care of them the most. Having my own puppy, having something that looks at you and you alone for their well-being, is HUGE and scary. When I had to leave her at home for the first time on Monday, I couldn't eat and was sick the whole time because I missed her, I felt guilty for leaving her because I knew she was scared, and I was scared that she'd get into something that would hurt her. She survived her first day of me being at work, and hopefully with time, she'll realize that although I have to go, I'll always come back.

She's a little ankle biter, always chewing on something (mostly my toes) and let me tell you--those puppy teeth are SHARP! She is wonderful, though, very smart, and I can tell she's going to be a wonderful companion for me for a very long time. I'm already spoiling her and being *that* dog owner (with the car seat and the carrying purse...), but I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, to me, she's not a dog. She's my child!

So, here are a few more pictures for your enjoyment! Feel free to "oooh" and "ahhh" as you please.