I have a confession to make.
Last night, we went to see Boss. As in the Boss Dog that I have now visited a total of 3 times.
It was actually Chris who confessed first. He said he had given the pet shop a call. And Boss was still there. My eyes lit up. My tail may have wagged. Or maybe it was my tush. But something got me going because he had mentioned the Boss Dog.
Let me just say that I need a dog like I need to do another Ironman. I need a dog like I need another bike or another watch or another pair of cycling socks - you get the point.
We ate dinner. We talked it over. What if we had a dog? It’s a little dog – how big and bad could this be? Sure it’s a huge cost. And a commitment of time. But still we agree after dinner we will go visit Boss Dog. If it is right, we will know. I’ll know when I see him if he needs to be mine.
Into the pet shop. There he is! The clerk asks which one we’d like to see. Why, that one. Sleeping in the Yorkie’s lap. The one with little ears and paws. The one that answers to Boss.
The clerk brings Boss out. There he is! He needs to be mine. We need this dog.
We sit with Boss in this small room. He goes from sleeping to sixty wide awake miles per hour in a split second as soon as the clerk closes the door. At first he licks us, then he sniffs. Then he wants down. He’s a lap dog but he’s been laying in some Yorkie’s lap all day and now he’s ready to run.
Holy shit. Boss has some speed. Boss runs around the little pen like his rear paws are on fire. He is running maniac circles like I’ve never seen. He is so small and the floor is so slippery that he ends up launching his entire body across the floor in a frantic skid. He climbs over us like we are monkey bars. He tugs at Chris’ shoelaces and likes the van keys. He pees about a dozen times. He can’t hold back. Running and playing – these are very exciting things.
And then – he takes a poo.
The clerk is busy so I go to clean it up. In the split second it takes for me to grab paper towels, Boss is already sniffing, licking, and stepping in his own poo. Boss makes no pretenses about who he is - an animal, a puppy, likely to sniff - possibly eat - his own poo.
I love dogs.
You would think a good poo would settle Boss down. Works for me. But not Boss’ case. He is doing lactate threshold intervals and he can’t stop. He might be hypoxic but he doesn’t care. He’s free. He’s got a ball to chase and a bone to chew. This is the good life of a little dog.
I think about why we need this dog. I think you reach a point in your life where you do nest and need something more to care for and love. It's our instinct and when we don't meet it we just don't feel right. Insert "you should have a baby" here. I think Chris wanted a dog because he liked the idea of just having another boy in the house to balance out my sometimes out of balance woman crazy. There is power in numbers (but I'm not sure he realized Boss only weighed about 3 lbs - that's not much power).
We were so close. Just say the word Chris says. He almost has his hand on a credit card, ready to go. And for the record did you know you could get a pet shop credit card? No money down no payments and little Boss could come home. And you thought putting vanilla lattes on credit card was bad.
At the tip of my tongue are the words let’s go. Let’s give it a try. Take him home and see how it goes. This would be much easier if someone would start that Rent-A-Puppy business we’ve been talking about.
But even after an hour of bonding with Boss I decide he shouldn’t come home. Sadly, there will be no Boss Dog.
You see, a good healthy dose of catholic guilt would sit in my stomach every time I leave Boss at home. What about when we're at work? And all the trips away. But it's not just that. Taking him out when it’s negative 30 degrees windchill outside at 5 am? I’m not ready to be that cold. Or clean up poo with paper towels. Or find my compression socks chewed to bits. Or……I can talk myself out of it as much as I can talk myself into it so I decide to drop the subject of the Boss Dog.
Now, the other decision. After talking it through with coach, there will be no IM for me next year. Unless I get a major IM itch in August, I will stick to my shorter course plans.
So those were the decisions made – no ironman, no dog. Plus I can a pretty bossy person to begin with so one boss in the house is quite enough. But if I get that itch in August, I’m going to show the coach and the credit card who’s boss and say I’m going to Ironman and I’m bringing my new dog.