Well, Hot Dog!

Those of you who have known me for any length of time probably had to pick your jaw up off the floor when you heard that we got a puppy. I sometimes feel like I'm missing some female genes, one of them being a comfortable presence around animals. I'm that awkward lady at the park that pats your dog on the head when you thrust it in front of me. It looks at me as if to say, "Everyone loves me. What's wrong with you? I'm stinkin' adorable." It's not that I don't like them. I'm just not a natural.

The past several months, however, my heart has begun to gradually turn in a different direction. I realized, upon getting married, just how selfish I really was. I never really knew what it was like to take care of anyone...or anything besides myself.

I remember shopping at the Dallas Galleria with Justin right after we got married. After window shopping at Gucci, Coach, Rolex and other designer stores, I found myself unknowingly throwing myself a pity party. By the end of the day, Justin was aggravated with me-- and rightfully so. He had spent money on nice dinners, activities and hotels and here I was acting like the little orphan Annie because I couldn't afford a $900 purse.

My character flaw has shown itself more than once in our 7+ months of marriage.

But lately I have tried to care for him. I made him Good Luck Brownies before his big Engineering Fundamentals exam. I let him eat straight out of the pan and get as many crumbs on the couch as he wanted. I try to send text messages first. I try to not let my first response always be a "No." When he wants a dog, I don't automatically rule it out as a possibility.

So I saw this ad for these mini daschunds. They seemed to stare at me from the computer screen. "You can do this. You need to do this."

Though a spontaneous decision, I feel like the process on my heart has been gradual. I went to the mall yesterday for the first time in a long time-- spent 5 hours there. And left joyous when I usually leave with envy and a sense of life's unfairness. I knew at that moment that some progress had been made.

So little Fiona is my little progress monitor. She will poop. And probably throw up. And probably a bunch of other fun stuff. But she will also cuddle; and look up at me like I'm the greatest protector ever.

I am a firm believer that God laughs at me daily. Not in a mean, junior high way-- but just because that's how I picture our relationship. I'm sure he was doing that just moments ago when I allowed a dog to lick my face and then excitedly declared, "She likes me! I think. She likes me!"

I am not overconfident. I'm still not a pro. So prayers are appreciated. And I'm sure plenty of writing material will commence.