Can you love your dog too much? Kibble treasure hunts? Doggy daycare? In a Valentine’s ode to her dog, senior editor Leslie Smith admits there’s no one she’d rather spend time with. Is that so wrong?
I used to hate getting on a plane without my husband. In addition to making me queasy, flying triggers my fear of dying. And if I was going to perish prematurely in a giant ball of flames, well, I wanted Mike right there with me.
I don’t feel that way any longer. Now if the plane goes down, I want one of us to survive to take care of our pup.
My name is Leslie Smith, and I think I might be addicted to my dog.
I don’t have a drinking problem, never smoked, and I can’t see the appeal of gambling. So I certainly didn’t anticipate the aching, unshakeable anxiety that comes over me when I’m away from my dog.
It’s not a feeling I understand, honestly, and its raw power can be unsettling. After all, this special someone in my life is mesmerized by houseflies and loves rolling in bird poop. I try to keep this mind ... most of the time.
Absolutely no doggy birthday parties
Though we decided years ago not to have children, Mike and I had always talked about getting a dog. We saved and saved before we could finally afford a place that allowed pets, and moving in marked an important milestone: We were turning from a couple into a family, and we wanted to do it right.
That meant a little differently from friends who’d devolved from articulate professionals into baby-talking, milkbone-dispensing, dog people. Instead of joining us for cocktails or concerts, we lost one set of friends when they began declining dinner invitations unless their Labradoodle was included.
Mike and I were determined to hold onto our independence, and ragged semblance of normalcy, so we put into place what we thought were adequate safety measures:
1. No birthday parties for our dog.
2. No Christmas cards with our dog dressed up as Rudolph.
3. One photo preferred—two photos max—of our dog at the office.
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