The over-protective me.

Is it alright to be particularly protective over a female pet dog? I’ve had Lanna for a couple of years now, and I don’t think I’m ever more affectionate towards a dog. And now I’m feeling a tad… father-ish. In the sense that I don’t want certain things to happen due to a personal stack of selfishness, much like a father unwilling to see his beautiful daughter marry a man he deems a malevolent pig under the skin of some random handsome dude.

The premise is this: Lanna had her period today. Dad has been going on for months now about letting her and Max, my pet Boxer… well, get married? Which is for the sake of the ‘next generation’ (of little Lannas and Maxes). To be honest, I’ve always expected… wanted, rather, for Lanna to bear the sons of Maximillion ‘Max’ Maximus De Moreallis (the full name for Max, which my brother gave). But somehow I can’t seem to stomach the fact that it’s happening now. I don’t know how, but I have this feeling that Lanna’s just not ready for it. Or rather, I’M not ready for it. In a naïvely idiotic way, I’m afraid that… that Lanna will change, and I don’t want her to change. I love the way that she’s incredibly hyperactive, overly enthusiastic and bursting with enough spunk and personality to drown Avril Lavigne in slobber (exaggerated).

But there’s nothing I can do to change my father’s mind (like something ever would), and I DO have to think on behalf of Max, who is getting rather old on his dog years. And particularly after those incidents where he managed to bust his testicles, perhaps he should quickly have a descendant or 2 before becoming permanently impotent (and with dad threatening to rid of those ‘manly-hoods’ if he damages either one of them again, I guess things should happen with haste).

And hence, under the dimming crimson sunlight of the evening, I led a surprised Max into Lanna’s cage.

It was a peculiar moment for me later when I went into the house. I found myself feeling restless and oddly anxious, and strode around the rooms in unease. Dad was retelling his story of X, one of our previous dogs, and its painful injuries caused over a female stray and a pack of some junkyard macho-hounds (with some added information, presumably exaggerated). Brother was thoroughly carefree. Mother was watching Chinese dramas in the room. The maid shot me a look whenever I happen to pass her in my strides. The dogs were noisy at first, barking and whining and rattling the cages (my imagination ran wild), and then… silence… (At this point the imagination is close to hysteria, fortunately subdued with television and The Simpsons).

Dad didn’t ask me to check to see if they’re ‘stuck’ or not until it was 20 minutes past contact.

And when I went to take a look…

I saw both their bemused head poking above the gates, hoping I would let them out for a game of catch.

Whether or not something happened during those 20 minutes, I doubt I’ll ever know (until a couple of weeks, if Lanna’s body undergoes some changes). But from what I saw, I don’t think something did, and I certainly hope that nothing had ever occurred

Anyhow, dad wanted to leave them there until morning, which is something I can’t have (I mean, both of them, in a cage together… heck, even wet wood would catch a fire in that situation). So I (secretly) tried to place them back to their respective cages only to have them barge into the garden (prompting dad’s discovery) and causing a massive bruise to my maid’s arm when she was trying to help.

Got a “WTF are you being such a bothering bother?!” scolding from dad, almost got into a quarrel with bro who was being an ass and now I’m riddled with guilt for causing injury to my maid because of my something somewhat ridiculous.

But can you blame me for being stupidly protective?