I Fell in Love...And Doggone It, I Can't Forget Him

Rocco in repose.

Full disclosure: I and my family members have never been dog people. Growing up, my sibs and I had one cat, Max (named after the Get Smart character) who ate when he wanted to, took care of his own ablutions, fertilized the flower beds so we didn't have to "do the doo," and slept on our backs when we did our homework tummy-down on the living room floor. More of a fixture than a pet, really.

As an adult, I traveled a fair amount in my early and mid-career, so continuing the cat tradition just made practical sense. And I've had one incredibly sweet calico and a few other independent tabbies along the way. Low-maintenance love.

But a month ago, I was (bow)wowed when I visited my sister and she'd just caved to her kids' request for a dog. OH. MY. GOSH. It took me two minutes to lose my heart to my new "nephew." Rocco is a rescue, part-chihuahua-part-something-else-really-cute, eight pounds of adorable who still has that puppy smell (which is mighty appealing—kind of like how that new car smell is so much better than old car smell).

A friend suggested this caption: "You want it WHEN?"

He rolled and quivered and jackrabbit-jumped and licked and skidded and teethed and tugged and begged and fake-growled and then, exhausted, napped before starting it all over again...and I couldn't keep my eyes or my hands off of him.

And just when I thought I'd seen all the charm and winsomeness in his puppy portfolio, he cocked his head and flipped his ears all around and did a great impression of a cartoon dog.

So yes, I'm in love. My dear departed Italian mom would approve of a guy named Rocco. And though I'm not yet in the right place for a dog, and I know my sister's kids would never hand him over, I bet there's a Rocco out there for me when I'm ready. Because I'm starting to think I might be a dog person after all.

© 2014 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie