You may or may not know that I have three dogs. You may or may not also know that I am allergic to dogs. Either way, you are probably putting two and two together right now and wondering why you are reading a post written by a crazy person.
But, in this age of the designer dog, allergies are really no problem, right? Just choose a hypoallergenic breed. Sounds good. Sounds like a perfectly rational plan.
If you mix a normal, sneeze-and-hive-inducing dog with a poodle, you’ll come up with an allergy-friendly pup, yes? Well, slow your roll there, Gregor Mendel. There are no guarantees when it comes to dog allergies. This was a lesson I learned the hard way, and her name is Pearl.
Pearl is quite sweet (apart from when she is humping her sister, Bernie). Everyone loves her (even, inexplicably, Bernie). And she loves them right back. Although I’m not so sure she loves me. Mostly because I cannot pet her. Pearl thinks a belly rub is her birthright, and she has never met an idle hand she couldn’t prod into petting her head. I have tried to oblige her. I have tried washing my hands immediately after petting her. Heck, I have tried washing my hands while petting her. The only thing that helps the situation is a Benadryl – and then I can’t pet her because I will be sleeping off said Benadryl. Maybe I could get injections to address this. But, sorry, no. Just no.
Bernie is related by blood to Pearl; they share a doggie dad. You wouldn’t know it to look at them, though. Where Pearl is dainty, Bernie is, well, a big oaf. But Bernie is a lovable teddy bear and has my son wrapped around her paw. She is also deceptively intelligent and, bonus, I am not allergic to her!
And then there is Coco, the reason for this post. Little Coco Bean turns 1 today. This small monster has put us through the ringer this year. We brought her home last December, as a Christmas present for our daughter. I lobbied my husband for this gift on Ryan’s behalf, and I have often thought throughout this year that I made a major misstep, a serious marriage blunder.
Coco designated our floors as her personal doggie toilet, terrorized Pearl and Bernie with her puppy teeth and boundless energy, and just generally tested everyone’s patience. Dan and I had grown quite spoiled, what with kids that had learned to make themselves a sandwich and wipe their own bottoms. See Exhibit A, “Halloween 2012 vs. Halloween 2021.” That tiny Minnie and Mickey were cute, but useless at assembling a PB&J. Bottom line: In the past few years, we have grown accustomed to (relative) peace and ease, which Coco disrupted entirely.
But then. Coco turned the proverbial corner, as puppies tend to do. The older dogs grew to like her, or at least tolerate her. Our initially reluctant son even came around to “L’il C,” as he dubbed her. Coco even – just this month – started batting at the bell hanging on the back door as a signal that she needs to go outside. No one asked her to do this. I had forgotten the unused bell was even there. She just found it and decided to surprise us all by discontinuing (for the most part) the use of our floor to do her business. I suspect this was a timely and tactical decision on Coco’s part, as I don’t know how much longer she could’ve scraped by on cuteness alone.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved Coco all along. But I like her now, too. Enough, apparently, to spring for a birthday party at doggie daycare. (Thanks, Go Fetch, for hosting – and for dressing Coco up in a ridiculous headpiece to snap the darling photo below! No doubt a lovely time was had by all.) So here’s to Coco on her first birthday. And to dogs generally. And also to carpet cleaner and Benadryl. Because dogs may be man’s best friend, but carpet cleaner and Benadryl are this dog owner’s best friend.
Happy birthday, Coco!
Happy Birthday to Coco! Cute stories. All three dogs are adorable.
Thank you for always giving me smiles.