As I got up yesterday morning at 8am, following a night of not-so-heavy drinking but that still gave me a nice white wine hangover (don’t you hate those?) and put on my rain boots and poncho to go walk my dog in the rain, I finally realized: This has got to be the downside of having a dog.

Given, my mom warned me about this ever since I started nagging her for a dog since the age of.. oh, say.. 9? I managed to bribe her into letting me have cats when I was 16, but only because I was sad cause I had been sick for a long time, had to spend 2+ weeks in the hospital and repeat a year in school.

I won’t have any friends in that year!” I wailed.
To which my mom replied:“Well, what would make you feel better?
And I responded: “A cat

In my defence, she should have seen that one coming.

So I got Fi, who would later in her life be renamed Fitler because she was an evil cat, and two weeks later Max, because I convinced my mother it was cruel to have only one cat – it would get lonely.

She should have seen that one coming, too.

Two years later, after Fitler had passed, I brought home a kitten from my then-boyfriend’s farm without telling her first, with the excuse they were going to drown it (and they were really going to drown it) if we didn’t find a home for it. Of course, I didn’t look for a home for it – I wanted to keep it myself. We named it Ephram, which later became Effi when we found out that she was a girl (when Max impregnated her and she gave birth to two babies on our living room floor).

But my mother never budged when it came to letting me have a dog.

Not until I adopted Ginny in Texas, anyway. One picture and she was sold. I had the green light to bring her back with me to Holland.

And standing in the rain, hungover and tired, I realized she was right in not letting me have a dog all those years. I wouldn’t have taken care of it the way I should, and she would’ve had to step in and do it instead.

Then I realized: Dang, I’m all grown up now. Here I am, taking care of a living creature and actually managing to keep it alive, putting her needs before my own (which would be sleep…). Just one of those little reminders that you are now in fact an adult.

When was the last time something made you realize that you’re an adult?