they always say "write about something you love"

Today, after 4 straight days of no voice, coughing up a lung and basically moving from the couch to the bath to my bed, I made the worst decision of my life... I decided to watch Marley and Me. Regardless of the attractive cast and the incredibly cute casting for the part(s) of Marley in the movie, it was by far the worst movie I ever saw. Not because the writing wasn't great (it was); or because the acting wasn't great (it was too); but because the dog dies at the end. Sorry if I ruined the movie for you, but trust me you will thank me.

The whole movie I laughed as this terror of a dog matured into semi-terrorist. Being so opposing to my own dog, part of me judged and part of me loved the relationship Marley had with Jen & John. "In all fairness, Jan" I thought, "He doesn't seem to bark at every single person who walks through the door. And he certainly isn't possessive of his owners. Can't say the same for my well trained, obedient monkey."

By the end, as Marley's life starts to comes to lull then rest, I was hysterical at the idea that my own Little Rascal might not live forever. The thought haunts me all the time and her second birthday is only a week away! The notion that one day I might not wake up to the tiny body at my feet and then be devoured by kisses terrifies me to a silence I do not ever possess outside of this thought.

Simply put - my dog is my life. I live for her in equal amounts to the way she lives for me. Eager since the moment we laid eyes on each other to be together - shes my life. At 6 weeks old I went to go pick up her sister (having wanted a brown Pomeranian), and the moment I was close enough, my baby girl jumped out of the arms of the breeder and straight into mine! Love at first sight. My boyfriend at the time didn't even need to ask if I was sure that I wanted the white with black spotted puppy instead. It was clear we were meant to be together.

We had a rough start though (as many couples do). There was the backlash of my family who insisted that I did not need a puppy {at this time I was so far into my ED I was certain that my family had zero clue what I needed}. Then there was the break up from my work-from-home-and-take-care-of-the-puppy boyfriend. Apparently being left alone during the day and spending the evenings with a sobbing, hysterical, mostly crazy mom isn't the ideal life for a puppy... go figure.

But we got some training {email me for more info on the best trainer in the city} and some day care {email me for this too!} and within a few weeks, we were on track with our training and on the path to becoming the most dynamic duo you've ever seen.

Not only does my wonder-pup sit, stay and remain potty trained, she also walks slowly down hills, sits at corners to avoid running into traffic, doesn't chase birds, squirrels or babies in the park, and she drops a cookie mid-bite! Anyone who has ever owned a dog knows the incredibility of this!

Like any dog owner, it is not because she is well behaved (or badly behaved depending on the day) that I love her. It is because she loves me. And it's the best kind of love there is. The unconditional, infinite love that only dogs can give. The kind that gets her as excited when I come back from the garbage chute as  when I come home from a full day of being out without her (a rarity I must admit).

I know that I always have a belly to snuggle with when I am crying uncontrollably, or a playmate when I want to catch a moment's glimpse of the sheer happiness that is tug-of-war with our favorite pink (pre-destuffed) flamingo.

She reminds me on sad cold days that the cold, ice and snow can be the most enjoyable thing in the world. And on the warm days she reminds me that some times it is okay - even needed - to cool down a little. Every day of her life, she goes through the motions in a way I strive to. That is to say that every day she eats, she plays with toys and with other dogs, she smiles, she listens, she does her own thing (a little too often lately for my liking). She pees and poops. When she doesn't want something she leaves it, when she does, she indulges. She just is.

My family has always joked that when we come back in our next lives (something Jewish people do not believe in), we want to come back as a Jewish dog. I have to say, whomever got that wish in the form of my Little Rascal is one lucky soul!

So as I sit now, having somewhat recouped from the terror of Marley and Me, I can appreciate how the story came to be. And for now, I will continue to feed Rascal her live-forever pills and pray that they work for many more years to come so that one day she can come to the screening of our lives in theaters.