I Was a Dog Growing Up

debbie and ronnie maybe TI kid you not.  Tracey Fletcher King’s recent blogpost reminded me of this.

I decided at 5 or 6 I wanted to grow up to be a dog.  I walked around the house on all fours like our dog Cindy, who, by the way, loved every minute of my life as a dog.  I drove my mom crazy in the kitchen begging, and insisted that she put my food on the floor in a bowl.  She went along with these antics for a while, me eating on the floor lapping from my bowl while she ate at the kitchen table.  She put her foot down when I wanted dog food (yuck, what was I thinking, my mom was a good cook.)  I snuck MilkBone dog biscuits, however, which I found tasty at that age.

It wasn’t the only time I wanted to be what I wasn’t.  I grew up with brothers whom I adored, and they all peed standing up.  I tried that and even though they told me I was not built for that as one of them was cleaning the floor, I persisted.  I decided the least I could do as my bits were growing in a different direction was to sit facing the back of the toilet, which I did for I-don’t-know how long.  My brother Stephen played on this desire to grow up to be like them when he told me eating spinach would put hair on my chest.  I ate lots of spinach!

At some point I settled into the realization that being the little sister and eventually a grown up woman with all the proper accoutrements was okay, and never went back to wanting to be man or dog.

        

I am now agreeing to the  Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial 4.0 International License, which you can learn more about by visiting the site, or, visit my web page for a more user-friendly summary on my terms.  My images/blog posts can be reposted; please link back to zenkatwrites.  Painted images courtesy of Dkatiepowellart.

Advertisements

About dkatiepowellart

hollywood baby turned beach gurl turned steel&glass city gurl turned cowgurl turned herb gurl turned green city gurl. . . artist writer photographer. . . cat lover but misses our big dogs, gone to heaven. . . buddhist and interested in the study of spiritual traditions. . . foodie, organic, lover of all things mik, partner in conservation business mpfconservation, consummate blogger, making a dream happen, insomniac who is either reading buddhist teachings or not-so-bloody mysteries or autobio journal thangs early in the morning when i can't sleep
This entry was posted in autobiography, family, journal, memory, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to I Was a Dog Growing Up

  1. You were such a cute kid with an imagination! I remember my sister being like that. She wanted to grow up to be a bunny though….

  2. Phantom and here summer long cat stage was exactly the same… The little brighter wouldn’t even speak, only meow… She still maintains she is at heart a method actor and that is why she hung in there so long… How fabulous if she turns out like you lol…. Not sure about the milk bones things though that made me snort my tea …xx

  3. Sammy D. says:

    Ha ha, love the dog story. Did you have an image of which kind of dog?

    • I wanted to be a smooth collie like Cinderella LouLou Bell Beck, my dog . . . My mom let me name her, tho we had to shorten the name to Cindy, which was by best friend’s name.

      • Sammy D. says:

        Those are such cute stories. I am enjoying my granddaughter’s newfound ” love” at 8-years old. – her first, true BFF. She just moved next door to this girl and they are inseparable – the PERFECT summer. Your stories make me think of you at that age. Cindy 🙂 how adorable to give your dog such a loving long name and nickname.

  4. Pingback: Challenge: One Book, One Pen, One Month, #2 | D.Katie Powell Art

  5. susanissima says:

    I love the fact that even as a wee lass you were eccentric, creative, out of the box!

Love to hear from you....

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s