Since Monday I have had the pleasant task of watching my sister’s dog, Hayes.
Hayes resembles a mixture of a Jack Russell Terrier, Parsons Russell Terrier, and “possibly Corgi.” He’s a mutt, but mutt or not he’s relatively a good dog. He does everything dogs typically do: he sleeps a lot, he only barks when he deems it necessary, ponders at you incessantly, shows love in various ways, and usually listens to commands. That’s the good things.
Hayes does other dog things: he poops (mostly outside, but inside as well; either way you have to clean it up), he has bouts of hyperness that is beyond difficult to control, and he causes me constant worry that he’s going to swallow a small item and choke to death, which would cause my sister to choke me to death.
Toddlers are similar to dogs, in their behaviors at least. When my niece was born I was scared to death to hold her because I feared I would drop her. It was terrifying, but I was put at ease realizing that I would be sitting in a chair while holding her and I could eventually pass her off to someone else. As my niece grew in the following years, I was astounded at the work my brother-in-law and sister put into to raising my niece. The sleepless nights, the changing of diapers, knowing when to feed my niece, or what toys were appropriate for a young child. My sister never seems to worry about my niece eating random small objects, nor is she ever phased by the grotesque looking diapers – I gag every time I have to baggy Hayes’ poop.
It could be that I am simply not mature enough yet, or the fact that, albeit dogs and toddlers being similar, a dog will stay a dog, while a toddler will grow into a person – I don’t want to mess that up. Having kids just seems like a terrifying endeavor at this point in my life, and I believe functioning as an Uncle is much more ideal and I’ll stick to dog watching.
No kids for at least six more years…