Do Your Dogs Have Last Names?
Ξ December 6th, 2008 | → 13 Comments | ∇ dogs |
Friday’s bulletrama contained the fact that my dogs have last names which differ from my own. The lovely Finn was a tad baffled by the fact that their names don’t match my own. Pretty easy to explain, actually.
See, I don’t consider myself their “mom.” They are not my children. Instead, they are my boys and I am their Becky. We live together in this house with a long backyard, a place I bought for them, but I am not their momma. Sometimes my heart is thisclose to bursting with love for the boys, yet it makes me uncomfortable when someone says something about my babies.
No. Just, no.
Now that we have that out of the way, my dogs are gifts in my life from wonderful people. I did not give birth to either of them.
Reilly’s mom was a beagle and his dad was a black lab. He was born at the vet tech school where a cousin was studying. She brought him home with her as soon as he was old enough to leave his mom. The sweet little boy lived with her for two years until she moved to an apartment that wouldn’t allow dogs of any size. I was desperate for a dog in my life and just so happened to be moving to an apartment which allowed pets. Because I already knew the gentle little Reillymonster, I didn’t hesitate when the offer for him to come live with me was extended.
Eventually I felt bad about leaving Reilly at home all day by himself while I worked. A customer knew my dad had been a city k-9 cop and that I had a soft spot for German Shepherds. He kept pushing me to contact folks an hour plus away from Pittsburgh who accidentally had a litter of puppies incredibly close to Christmas. Gorgeous, purebred pups who cost more than I could afford at the time. So an ex-boyfriend that I was still talking to bought Ludo for me. He sent payment and a note to the seller, asking that the note be handed to me when my then boyfriend wasn’t nearby. I was so touched by his wonderful, generous gesture that somehow it just seemed natural to me for Ludo to carry his last name. He probably doesn’t even know that, but it doesn’t matter. Ludo should still carry his name.
So there you have it. Proof that I am crazy. (As if the internet needed proof!)
Non crazy photos:
Ludo, too young to leave his mom.
Reilly, almost three years old. 
This past October…
