I am not.

There are many things that I am not. I am not super organized. I am not a complete neat freak (any more). I am not obsessed with the way I look. I am not good at math. I am not as well traveled as I would like to be. I am not a person who likes Brussels sprouts. I am not an avid reader. And, perhaps, I am not a pet person.

I've come to discover this over the past few days.

It's a strong possibility that I am just not cut out for a pet. My father rather forcefully gave Andi and I a chihuahua puppy when we were still in college. His wife had gotten it and then decided she didn't really want it, so therefore I just needed it. After all, I'd had a chihuahua growing up who had died right after I'd moved away to college. So I took it in. When Simon (the chi) was about 7 months old and I was about 4 months pregnant, Andi and I decided we couldn't take care of him any longer. I worked long hours and so did Andi. The poor little guy was alone all day...and he just didn't deserve that. Simon had bonded with Andi's dad, so we sent him to live with Andi's parents. He still lives there to this day and is very content. He had 17 acres to run around on, after all. So, then, Andi and I thought perhaps we were more of the cat type. While visiting my Mom one January afternoon, Andi was outside and heard the cries of a kitten in a tree. He climbed up, saved it, and soon we had a cat. A little black cat named Freddy (short for Freddy Mercury). A cat -- great! we thought. The perfect pet from all perspectives: self sufficient, perfectly capable of self potty training; not the most needy of animals. We had to get the one cat that had separation anxiety. After we'd had Freddy about two weeks or so, he had to go. The straw that broke the camel's back was when Freddy yowled all morning long after Andi had gotten in the shower. The darn cat was upset because he couldn't be in the same room with Andi for 10 minutes. It sounds very sweet -- but let me assure you, at 5am when you're 5 months pregnant and have a job where you're on your feet all day, it is anything but sweet. Freddy went bye bye. We haven't had a pet since...and I've been very reluctant to get one. I didn't want pet odor in our new house. I didn't want dog or cat hair everywhere. Adrien, however, loves dogs. We thought the dog would be the perfect addition to our family.

Last night, that perfect addition vomited over and over again all over our carpet, woke us up repeatedly overnight and escaped from the back yard at 3am after he'd woken us up and we assumed he needed to potty...the 3am waking was right after the midnight waking. I called the vet about the vomiting, by the way. They said beagles just get "worked up" sometimes. I think he vomited a total of five times or something. We had to remove his water and food dish because he'd go drink water and then throw it up three minutes later. I'm talking copious amounts of doggy vomit...all over my white carpet.

That's how many nights in a row now that I haven't gotten any sleep? I think I've figured it out: I am not a pet person.