Woke up to my kid HOWLING this morning. At first I think she is freaking out and sobbing. For some reason, I think that my husband is in her room comforting her so I returned to snoozyland. The howling continues. “What the &8%#@?” I am thinking in the groggy state. Then I think, hmmmm, the baby upstairs is just bawling.
Then, slow learner I am, I finally figure it out. Kate, who transformed into “George the Dog” last night, is howling. Last night, she’d put on a leash and begged me to walk her.
This is where I sadly draw the line. I really don’t want to walk my kid, even if the leash is just a piece of white Christmas ribbon.
Right now, too, I just want her to shut the hell up and stop howling. I mean, no one wants to listen to a howling dog at 6:30 a.m. “Ow ow awoooooooo!”
Then she comes barreling on all fours into my bedroom. No one moves faster on all fours than Kate, not even a greyhound, I swear. She’s impressed more than a few parents with her scary all-fours abilities, which most resemble a mother ape racing across the ground to snatch up a threatened baby. Pilates mommies have nothing on Kate’s shoulder strength. She could probably plank for days.
Anyhow, I try to be a good mom. I try to play pet when she wants to be one, most often a horse, cat or puppy. But it does make me feel a bit creepy — all that woof, woof, pant, pant. Over the summer, we constructed a pile of large dog bones from cardboard together, coloring them white. When puppy is hungry or does a trick, she gets a bone. Puppy hid the bones around the house, which was all fine and fun. At least puppy uses the toilet. I am still finding bones hid around the house.
Kate desperately wants a real puppy, though, which is a whole other issue. Yes, I probably wouldn’t have to play puppy with her anymore. She could play puppy WITH the puppy. But the thought of walking that puppy in the frigid New England cold is a little more than a can deal with at the moment. So I will let her run on all fours and howl and even upgrade her leash. For now.
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