I am become death, destroyer of cute little dogs.

Go figure, someone brings a cute little puppy to work tonight and I don’t have my camera. However, it’s probably just as well, because after I hugged the little fuzzball for several minutes and was trying to set her down, she got squirmy on me and proceeded to tumble ass-over-teakettles to the hard floor about two feet below with an enormous shriek. The dog’s owner, the sister of one of our reporters, ran out of the building crying. Man, talk about making a guy feel like a heel. (Though I’ll admit the thought occurred: “Wait a minute, what about picking up the injured dog and then running away?”)
Needn’t have worried though. After getting back on to her feet and shaking it off, the puppy came running right back to me. Go figure. I felt along her ribs and back and head to make sure she didn’t break anything. She was on her feet again, running around, so obviously we didn’t break a leg. The fall probably scared her more than anything. (This was a tiny little poodly-type of dog, so two feet to her is like falling off a two-story building. Or so the shriek would have one believe.)
Maybe I was a bit indelicate, but when my co-worker’s sis returned at last, I apologized profusely…and then offered the advice that she might wanna toughen up, because critters will put you through much the same gamut of caregiver experiences and worries that a child would. Perhaps even moreso, because they don’t grow into beings with their own willpower, their own cell phones, and a need to borrow the car on Tuesday nights, and because they don’t speak, so we imbue them with our own emotions overlaid on top of whatever it is the pet is actually feeling.
So, I apologize again for dropping ya, Jackson. You’re a cute little pup. And your new human mommy’s a sucker. Use that knowledge well, and you should be on the Milk Bone gravy train for life!