Baby Practice?

No, not a weekend of practicing making babies. Jaime's in Utah visiting friends this weekend. Meanwhile, it's just me and Annie-the-dog chilling like ice cream filling at home all weekend. When people say that having a dog is good practice for the responsibility of having children i usually laugh. Jaime put it well last week, "You can't just give your baby a bone, walk out the door and say "K, be good! We'll be back in 8 hours!" True that.

Nevertheless and notwithstanding...Annie gave me my first dose of sleepless parental madness last night, bless her little canine heart. Like a true lonely bachelor slob, I stayed up pretty late playing guitar, watching movies and eating burritos. Annie was an awesome man's best friend all day - until her incessant whining and whimpering by my bed finally dragged me out of a fresh REM cycle at 3:30 a.m. Which is not normal for her, so I figured something was wrong. On the rare occasion that she does bark us out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn (which is a blessing compared to 3:30 a.m.), my subconscious usually remembers who's boss and registers the "keep your eyes shut tight and Jaime will take care of her" reflex. But last night I was the only human home. And really sleepy. So, living in a third floor apartment in the Colorado winter I have to put on shoes and socks, coat and hat and take her out. She was jumpy like a caffeinated kid whose been holding in a pee all day and sure enough, let loose some stinky doggy diarrhea on the first patch of grass she could reach.

At that point, i was no longer annoyed. I was proud that she was so well house trained that she held that mess inside of her while I laid in bed for 30 minutes hoping she'd give up on me and go back to sleep. Good girl.

I stumbled back in and went right back to sleep. Until about 45 minutes later when I woke up from Annie's hacking as she threw up on my carpet. I got up again and cleaned that up, but couldn't go right back to bed because I had to wait for the carpet stain remover stuff do it's magic (Instructions: Let sit for 10 minutes while you cry on the floor and wish you were sleeping).

Then of course, she pulled the 3:30 a.m. thing again at 6:30 a.m. and it was official: my night was over. At that point it was obvious she was a sick puppy. I put my warm clothes back on and took her out to feed the grass another batch of butt soup.

It was then that I thought "maybe this is good baby practice." Now I'm typing and thinking that changing a diaper in the comfort of my own home or sitting in a rocking chair with my offspring listening to Miles Davis ballads softly playing in the dark can't be that bad. (And yes, I do plan on having Miles in the stereo at all times for just such an occasion.)

I'm sure in a few years I'll be writing a new blog as a dad (by then they'll be called "star logs") in neo-retrospect typing "Annie is piece of cake." But at least Jaime will be home. I miss Jaime. And Annie's a good dog. I think she's feeling better now.

She better. I'm off to bed soon, hopefully for the whole night. Daddy's gotta work tomorrow.