Furry Little F*cker

Okay, I can admit when I'm an asshole.

I'm an asshole.

In the past, whenever I would see or hear friends lamenting about their dogs - whether they were sick or they died - I'd be all "Awww...so sad!" and then think, "Dude. It's a dog. Get over it, have kids, and feel REAL life."

And then I met Ted.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I love this stupid dog so much. He reminds me of my son when he was one year old, which was a HORRIBLE TIME because Mouth couldn't tell me if his tummy was hurting or if he was tired or whatever he was feeling. I was so happy when he started talking so I could help him feel better no matter what was bothering him.

And now I'm stuck in a perpetual time warp of loving a baby who can't tell me if his tummy hurts or if he's hungry (well, actually, he does a reallllly good job of telling me he's hungry!) I knew probably five years ago I wasn't going to have any more children, which I was cool with - and then I got Ted. He's my baby. My buddy. He follows me everywhere (except the bathroom - he stops at the threshold because he ain't dumb...he knows that's where BATHS HAPPEN.) He's sleeping against my leg as I type this blog.

I love him so much it breaks my heart because I don't ever want anything bad to happen to him...but I know I will likely outlive him. And I hate that I think about that, and I wish I could stop but he's my everything...you know?

Shit. It's probably time I started dating again, yes???