I’ve decided that I want a dog. And I want to name him Marlow. I have no idea where this idea originated from but it’s stuck in my mind and I can’t get it out – especially now that I have a name. Part of the irony is that I am not an animal person, never have been. Besides a brief stunt of having a dog we named Paco, my family has not been pet owners (yes I know at some point there were two cats but they both died when I was incredibly young and the fish I had for a few weeks doesn’t count). And the idea is strange because when I’m around other people’s dogs I’m not overly affectionate. They smell, slobber, and leave hair everywhere. But surely if I had my own I would love him no matter what – kind of like having your own kid.
And speaking of having your own kid, I talked with a co-worker this morning about the similarities and differences between having a dog and a child. Since I have neither, I don’t really know what I’m talking about but I decided that the dog would be harder in the begining and then get easier while the child would be the opposite. I thought about all the shots, the house breaking, the smell, slobber, hair, food consumption, fleas, ticks, and all other things that go along with a dog but I still want one…and a larger one like a lab, not one of those yippy ones that celebrities think are accessories.
I currently live in a condo that doesn’t allow pets so for now, the decision is made for me. But fingers crossed, I’ll be moving in the next few months. Maybe it’s time for Marlow after all.