Quips and wails and puppy dog tales

I've been thinking a lot about the past this week. Maybe it's the holiday. Maybe it's PMS. Who knows? One of my neighbors got a new puppy recently and it started me thinking this morning about something that happened a while back, oh, about 5 or 6 years ago.... Paperweight called me at work one day and told me he had a surprise for me. Now that, in itself, was a surprise. He doesn't do the surprise/romantic/think about someone besides himself thing. He told me he bought me a puppy. I had wanted a puppy for like, forever. I loved puppies. I loved little dogs and this was a wee bitty dachshund. Now, this was even sweeter when you know that he's just not a little dog kind of guy. They aren't "real" dogs, he claims. So the fact that he actually got one that he knew I would love...well, it was just the nicest thing he'd done in years. (insert your deep romantic sigh here) I just bubbled all over him. I was so excited I thought I'd pee my pants. I told all the girls at work and we talked about names and I promised them pictures of my new sweet little puppy. So I get home from work that afternoon and our boy comes running out the door holding the puppy just grinning from ear to ear and jumping with excitment. Guess what? he says to me. Dad bought me my very own puppy. He can sleep in my room, on my bed, and I think I'll name him Butthead...... I....was crestfallen.... I....was crushed.... Paperweight, thought I was over-reacting. It belongs to the family, he says, and I shouldn't be so selfish. It occurred to me this morning, for the first time ever, that I've been a cat person for years. I hate dogs. I can't stand dogs. I yell at them whenever I seem them and they're all jumpy and sniffy and smelly. EW! Give me a cat anyday..... And it finally dawned on me, this morning, that this attitude started on that day....