When It Comes To My Dog, Judge Away

Dog-lovers are an exceptional breed. Did you see what I did there? I know this because I'm a dog-lover, and I'm exceptional. My grandma tells me I am every time I see her.

My seven-pound Papillon pup named Luna is the love of my life... besides Sour Apple and Caramel suckers. Those kick ass. Because Luna is so small, I tend to treat her like an actual baby. I cradle her like a child. I talk to her like an infant. Heck, I read her bedtime stories.

And for some reason, I'm single.

The first few years I owned Luna, I found myself becoming incredibly self-conscious in public, with regards to how I acted with her. Strangers definitely thought I was pathetic. In college, I'd take Luna to a local dog park. She was a menace to her fellow small dogs, and a companion to the territorial big dogs. There was one particular dog, a Rottweiler named Rosie, that Luna adored. She was so kind to Rosie, and that made me proud! As we'd walk away from the park, I'd pick Luna up, and she would struggle to climb my shoulder in hopes of seeing Rosie one last time.

If you think that isn't cute, you're not human. Congratulations.

When Luna and I would get to my Jeep, I'd take her leash off, pick her up, and give her a million kisses. People saw this and probably thought I went overboard, but guess what? They're dumb. (The greatest intellectual argument I possess in my arsenal.)

As the years have gone by, I've become far less occupied with what other think. Okay, if someone gives me a head-tilted stare, I immediately check my face.

Case and point: I took Luna on a morning walk last Wednesday morning. We walked on a popular trail that just so happens to track by a local school. Last week was the first week of school for Blair, Nebraska, and as much as students complain about going back, they're excited as hell.

As Luna and I walked by the school, a few students pointed at her, screaming, "PUPPY!" She's mine, you little heathens! Luna starts to trot towards the kids, and I'm thinking, "Wow. My dog is maturing. She's going to let these kids pet her." Oh, how naïve I am.

Luna stops about five feet from a group of kids, relaxes her lower back, and takes the biggest, smelliest crap of her life. It was both frightening and impressive. The kids, thankfully boys, were laughing their butts off, and you know what? So was I. A few years ago, I would've been hot-cheeks embarrassed, but not this time. No, this time I laughed until my face hurt.

Luna and I said goodbye to the students and went on our merry way. In hindsight, I'm thankful that the kids didn't think I was some ominous stranger. Actually, they almost seemed to pity me.

I'm not sure how I feel about that, but let's move on.

You can judge me for my looks, which happens a lot. You can judge me for my brain, which is fair. You WILL definitely judge me for my relationship with my dog.

I don't give a shit.