Well you ask for it so here it is.  A little story about the animal affectionately known as “It’s Not My Dog.” Okay, yes, he does have another name.  Some call him Kirby, and most of the time he answers to that.  Me?  I call him, well, a lot of things. . .

Aside from INMD, he’s also my pal.  My friend.  And gosh, my constant companion.  If you have a dog, you know what I’m talking about.  If you don’t, well, read along and discover, because that’s exactly how it happened to me.

You see, although we lived on a spacious plot of gorgeous fertile Michigan land in the middle of apple and peach orchards, there was never a dog in my life while I was growing up.  A singing canary and an occasional cat or two, yes.  Dogs, never.  So how I came to become the owner of one now, in my very adult life is one of those detours I like to write stories about.  Not because it’s so unique, but because it’s a tell-tale life story, and that’s what I conquer best.  So here goes the story of Kirby and me.

You see, he wasn’t the first prince in my life.  No, that title was reserved for my son.  My first born.  The blonde haired blue eyed tiny human that first stole my heart at 8:01PM on February 15, 1984.  Sigh.  If you’ve given birth, you know what I’m referring to.  Especially with your first born.  But even if you’re not a mom, please stay with me here while I get to the rest of the detour.

So the real prince, aka ‘son’, steals my heart and soul from the minute the pain killers wear off in the hospital, and then one day he’s all grown up and decides to leave town.  Okay.  I get that part.  I did the same thing way back when.  And, in between stealing my heart and leaving town, about 27 years happen (all in the blink of an eye mind you, but that’s another detour or two. . .).  Cut to the chase, the departure goes something like this:
Son to mom:  “I’m moving to NYC.  Can you watch Kirby for me until I get settled and find a dog friendly apartment?”
Mom to son:  Sigh.  “Sure!”
Mom’s real life thoughts:  Sure!  Now that we’ll be empty nesters and I’m FREE at long last to spend my days to whatever I damn well please and want to do,  I’d love to also be completely TIED DOWN by the shackles of a 50 pound animal!  Especially one that requires walking, feeding, play time, poop-scooping, attention, grooming, and, um, love.  Did I mention the expense of said dog?  Well, now I have.  But really honey, SURE!

And just like that, I was a dog owner.  But that’s not where this story ends.  Before I knew it, the dang dog stole my heart.  Didn’t see that coming at all!  Morning walks?  Check.  Evening walks?  Check-check.  Ear cleaning, teeth inspection, fur brushing, flea monitoring, paw care, medical check-ups, professional grooming, agility classes, obedience lessons, play dates, dog park runs, beach walks, and well, you get the picture here of who controls who, right?  Further, then I  actually started to worry about when/if ever son would, as they say in baseball terms, ‘call him up.’ You know, to the big leagues of NYC where he had comfortably settled in.

But since we’re now almost three years and counting, ahem, well, as husband says, “I’m thinking we have a permanent room mate.”  And, as with all things in life when you know there’s more to the story, let’s just leave it for now and say that, like it or not, INMD really and truly IS my dog.  At least for now.  And I love him.  There.  I said it.  Further, sometimes I even love him more than the son.  Or, the husband.  There.  Said that, too.  To be clear, that’s only sometimes. . ..  Yeah, really.

But, can you even guess how this story gets more interesting?

Enter daughter.  One day daughter gets lonely and find’s happiness in a puppy.  This is her puppy.

Do you need anymore details?  I think not.  There’s no more room for twists and turns in this detour.  It’s called life.  And I love it.  There.  Said that, too.  My name is Terry and I’m a (reluctant) but insanely happy dog owner.

Oh yes, one more thing.  I think it’s safe to say there will most likely be a few more dog blogs in the future for this writer.  Just sayin’.