Have You Seen My Wiener?

See that beautiful little lady up there? That's my girl. Numero Uno en mi corozon, as they say South of the Border. Future girlfriends beware.

I know I said in my last post that I was a sarcastic jerk who has an opinion on anything, but I should confess I'm also that guy who gushes over his dog like it's a child. Or a Princess. Or both. I am not ashamed to admit this trait.

You can't blame me though - I mean look at her! That is one adorable dog. Don't deny it, even that 'cat people' hanging out in the back watching kittens getting tickled on Youtube looked up and smiled, albeit for a split second.

Boba is her name (not 'Numero Uno', as I alluded to earlier), and no, she is not named after Boba Fett. I am a total nerd, but, believe it or not, I have never sat down through one complete Star Wars viewing. Isn't irony fun?

Boba was born July 3rd, 2007 - an Independence Wiener - and 'sprung' during the middle of a baseball season that eventually saw the Boston Red Sox win their second World Series trophy in four years. This made me exceptionally happy, I even have the hat to prove it. We will call it a 'double-bonus.'

She came into 'our' lives at LarkFest on September 1st, 2007 - I say 'our' lives because when the opportunity to bring that beautiful German National into my world came about I was in a serious relationship with someone whom I believed, at the time, was the woman I would end up changing diapers with. Hopefully our kids' first, and then our own, you know, if it came to that.

Things didn't work out as I had hoped nor planned, and suffice to say the relationship went down in a fashion I can fairly compare to the Challenger Tragedy. A lot of smoke, multiple explosions, and a visit or two in Florida.

Now, here is where the real fun part starts - for you of course - I've already stalled long enough in front of this keyboard.

While there were different opinions regarding a possible remedy to the relationship the end result was one of us moved out of the apartment we shared. Ready for some humor? 'The Move' consisted of traveling - literally - one and one half city block (read that in a Rob Lowe, Parks & Rec. voice for maximum effect). A right-on-red took more time than it would for us to ring the other's doorbell. Or, more appropriately, a "Punishment Light**."

That's how it tends to go in the earliest stages of 'adulthood', though. Emotions tend to supersede logic. A self-imposed victim to the 'in between'. Maybe it just boils down to 'different strokes for different folks'. Some couples fall in love instantly and it works out forever like a Disney movie, but without subliminal penis pictures. Other couples fall in love and it turns out like a bad Lifetime movie my mother and sister DVR and dissect like a frog. Sure, there are plenty of people in the middle of those two extremes, but really, what's the fun in them? Besides, those two really love their Lifetime.

In this particular story, the emotion was certainly there, but the logic of it all would make the ancient Greeks so backwards-crazy they would start running around naked screwing the women instead of the men. Oh, the horror!

Extremely long story short, we parted ways, even eventually (and shockingly) somewhat repairing the damage we collectively inflicted that could have put a Dick Cheney Shock & Awe wet dream to shame. Alright, I know, too far. Gross.

Point being - unfortunately, for me, even a sarcastic assh*le with a quip for everything is susceptible to the mere idea of 'true love'. Whether it 'truly' was or was not is immaterial. What matters - above all else - is the experience, for better, worse, or indifference - and your results in the end, I suppose.

So - back to my wiener (hah! Don't worry, definitely not the last time I'll use that joke.) Boba was obviously in the middle, and I made the, uh, 'executive decision', that she was coming to live with me, which at the time was the best (and as far I was concerned, only) option.

Now I can look back five years later and say "What in the hell was I doing?!" but also be comfortable with the fact that that experience helped shape who I am today, for better or worse. Now, I try and use a bit more logic in potential relationships instead of just blindly following my heart.

Emotionally, I wanted to stay in that house as it burned to the ground, metaphorically, of course, but logic eventually won out - there is always something more on the other side, even if that is a stupid cliche.

It all boils down to logic. Hindsight helps, too.

So sure, things didn't work out - it wasn't all in vain, though. Look at the size of that wiener!

[EDIT] I kid you not, as I finished this entry Boba brought her (mini) tennis ball over to me for a game of fetch. If I'm going to write about her, she thinks, I have to throw her a tennis ball fifty times in a row. It's just dog-logic, folks. Plus, she's fishing for some bacon, I'm on to her schemes.

** For those whom do not follow the TV show Weeds, & hate embedded links like I do, a quick elaboration: As main character Nancy Botwin so eloquently dictates, a "Punishment Light" is a traffic light where "if you don't make it you sit -- forever-- it makes absolutely no sense. There's no cars, no one's trying to cross. It's just put there to make you f*cking miserable."