So some people think maybe their first two screw-up children were just chance, that they should try for the third charm. Yup, that’s me now. It’s also funny how the pet world has transformed me into someone who accepts the coat of white hair my PJs have inherited and the grass and dirt and spilled water bowls that grace our abode’s floors, even a little bit of giving into whining and face licking. Baby steps.
Here’s my justification like any well-intentioned but not necessarily good expecting mother:
- The breed: Corgi. They’re Welsh. Like me. Only pure and not one millionth.
- The gender: Male. Because Butters (a girl) fell in love with Cary (a boy) more than me (a girl).
- The name: Beans. Butter beans… Like from the South… Get it?!!
- Their legs are short. Like mine. Therefore, I can feel like I’m really taking him for a run instead of a walk while I run with Butters. She’s laughing at me inside that little doggy head, I know it.
- They like to sit on your feet. They’re feet warmers! If they’re good enough for the Queen’s feet, they’re good enough for mine.
- Those ears. Those eyes. What’s not to like? Hush, Erin.