Why I Cried When I Left My Dogs (and not my siblings, lol sorry guys)

Greetings squadlings!

Considering I missed my 9:30 class yesterday morning because I was dealing with the nightmare that is college housing, I figured “Why not blog?” So here I am. (Yes, I started this post yesterday. Don’t hate me, I’m lazy)

This post, however, will not be about the nightmare that is college housing. That, I assure you, will come later. This post is about my favorite thing; doggos.

I have two doggos. Both Cockapoos (cocker spaniel and poodle mix). They are from different breeders, so they are not related to each other, but they are my sons. One of said doggos lives at my dad’s house, and one of said doggos lives at my mom’s house. Huzzah divorced parents. 

So, yes, my dogs are my sons, and I cried when I moved away and left them to go to college. I didn’t cry when I left my six brothers and sisters. No, not even the two-year-old one. I cried when I left my dogs. Yes, I am heartless.

For real though, I didn’t feel the need to cry when I left my brothers and sisters. Yes, I’m very close to all of them, but I didn’t really feel the need to cry when I left them. Why, you ask?

Because they can freakin’ talk.

I can still interact with my siblings; FaceTime, texting, calling, whatever. They know how to use a phone (yes, even the two year old). My dogs, however, don’t.

I can’t give all the pets to my doggos over FaceTime. I can’t lay in bed with my doggo and bitch to him about how hard life is over FaceTime. I can’t take my dogs for a walk over FaceTime. They stare at the phone, sure, but they have no idea what I’m saying to them. Louie is terrified of FaceTime, frankly. He has no idea how it works. Montee is just constantly confused about everything, so he doesn’t really pay attention. Montee is essentially me in dog form.

I’ve always loved dogs, since I was little and beyond. My mom has tons of pictures of me sprawled out on my floor, surrounded by my plethora of stuffed dogs. I always wanted a doggo, but it never seemed to work out when I was little.

Then, my parents got divorced. Rest in peace parents marriage August 28th, 1993-March 11th, 2007.

ANYWHO, when my dad moved out, I stopped in my quest to get a dog. My mom was at work all day, and my dad starts work at 3:00 in the morning and ends at noon, so I figured he’d be too tired to get a doggo.

So, my dad ended up getting married again in 2011, which landed me with a younger stepsister. Stepsister ALSO wanted a doggo. I was back in business.

Basically, Stepsister and I created the world’s cheesiest PowerPoint presentation on why we needed a doggo. Father and Wife were not convinced, but said they would “think about it.” Any child knows that when a parent says “think about it”, that means no.

But alas, Stepsister and I were not about to give up in our quest to get “Peter” (yes, Montee’s screen name was Peter…) I remember sitting in front of my laptop, constantly refreshing the page of puppies from Montee’s breeder. Then, one moment when I hit Refresh, a giant red SOLD appeared next to “Peter’s” name. I called my dad, hella upset, and he said we would “find another dog.”

Long story short, I was so upset that I made Stepdad call the breeder and ask who had adopted “Peter” and where he was going. Unfortunately, we ended up talking to the one person at the damn business who didn’t take care of records.

So, eventually, I gave up on my quest for “Peter.” However, I knew the breeder would post about puppies and where they were going on Facebook, and one day, my dad told me “check the Facebook, maybe she posted about him.” 

To make an incredibly long, probably boring story, short, “Peter” was my and Stepsister’s Christmas present.

 

Louie, on the other hand, was a different story. I wasn’t fighting to get Louie like I was with Montee. In fact, I didn’t want to get Louie. I was worried that I would love him more than Montee, and I made a point of constantly saying “he’s fine, but I like Montee better.” 

Louie was a birthday present from Stepdad to my mom. He’s two years younger than Montee.

ANYWHOOOO, if you’ve actually stuck with me throughout this obnoxiously long post, I thank you. My point is, I always wanted doggos. I was just kind of handed siblings.

 

That was a joke.

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Doggo sons. Louie (left) and Montee (right)

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Louie j chillin’.

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