I'm becoming a bit ridiculous...

Edit: Boy. For an English teacher, I switch tenses in here a ridiculous amount. Chalk it up to tiredness and the heat of the moment. And please forgive me.

So you know how people are always comparing pet ownership to parenthood? I know, they're not really anything alike, but you cannot convince me that having a puppy does not prepare you for parenthood.

Exibit A:

Finn has been so good lately when it comes to sticking around. Granted, we use a wireless pet fence, but even when he is not wearing the collar, he stays within the perimeter.So tonight, when I wasn't sure where I last put the collar, I trusted him to go out without it (That's a parental trait, right, trusting?).

After a while, I realized he had been out there longer than usual, so I went to the door and called him.

No response.

So I sat back down again, waited awhile, then whistled and called again.

No response.

Seriously, dog?

First, I was irritated. I'm tired; Steve's not home; and I am not going out to search for him.

So I waited a while and called and whistled again.

No response.

Usually I can at least hear the collar jingling. I call my parents next door and ask if maybe he ran up there.

Nope. No Finn.

Now I'm a little worried (another parental trait, right), and I call and whistle again.

Nothing.

And suddenly I remember hearing my sister talking about coyotes in the area and a conversation with my coworker about coyotes eating pets, and I become a little more worried. Then I hear a wild-animal-like noise out in the cornfield behind the house, and images of my poor little puppy being eaten by a pack of coyotes. Or with his collar stuck on a tree branch in the woods. And clearly, this is where I got ridiculous (isn't ridiculous overreacting another parental trait?.

I try again to call him, and he comes trotting up the steps from the driveway into the house.

And I almost cried.

Seriously?! Clearly I'm hormonal or tired (it is the first week of the school year, by the way), because this is ridiculous.

I call the dumb dog over and cry, telling him how worried he had me (I know, pathetic), and I pet his fuzzy little face.

And then I smell it. Sh**. My dog rolled in it.

And suddenly, I'm not emotional anymore. I'm angrily calling him into the bathroom. He obediently jumps into the tub, and I scrub all the poop off of him, thinking the whole time, "You're so lucky I love you. Remind me again why we have a dog."

My anger cools, and he's cute again.Snuggled up in his bed, while I tap this all out on my computer.

I know that parenthood will multiply all of these emotions times a million, but I can't wait. I love my dog, to a ridiculous degree, but I can't wait to love a child a bajillion times more.