It’s His Fault

I really don't like going. But I do. For him. For both the ‘hims' in my life. Polo and JD. This weekend, we made our usual trip to the dog park and fell into what we do: JD sits on an empty bench, I lay my head in his lap while reading a book, and Polo runs around the park like he's campaigning for Homecoming King. This is what we do and I've come to love it, regardless of the occasional whispers from JD, I don't think it's appropriate for you to lay like this in public… And I'm all, Since when have I ever been appropriate?!

On our most recent trip to the dog park, Polo ran to our bench and jumped on my belly–which is his way of letting us know he's ready to go home. An elderly gentleman approached our bench and cooed Polo's way. Now aren't you just the cutest dog here…oooh, just look at your face…I'm sure you know just how cute you are… I, of course, beamed like a proud mom and acted like I GAVE BIRTH to the furry creature perched on my belly. I was seconds away from insisting Polo had my father's paws.

When we left the dog park, I was still beaming…then I was struck with reality. And the reality is that God is fair. In fact, He's so fair I know there's no chance under Heaven that I'd be blessed with a cute child AND a cute dog. Life just doesn't work out like that. So, there you have it folks. When the day comes for me to bear a kid (which is no time soon!), I shall bring forth the spawn of Chewbacca and Jabba the Hutt. And it'll ALL BE POLO'S FAULT.

Instead of being disappointed, I merely embraced this notion, apologized to my future ugly child, and took a picture of my dog…hey, cut me some slack, I have to soak it up while it lasts!