Jealous of a Dog

My dear friend Amy recently became a dog owner. Our pre-dog outings typically had gone something like this:
  • Meet for iced coffee around 2 PM.
  • Window-shop on Rodeo Drive, Melrose Avenue, or Robertson Boulevard to check out the latest fashions.
  • Have dinner.
  • Find another restaurant for dessert (my idea).
  • Go to a club or crash a private party.
  • Part ways around 3 AM.
I wished our post-dog outings could be like the others had been. But now they’re scheduled around the dog’s playdates, training sessions, park runs, and hikes. Additionally, we can now dine only at restaurants with outdoor seating. (We all three have to sit together, you know.) Most of the people we come into contact with speak only to Amy. Each encounter lasts several minutes. I stand there listening to the exact same conversation Amy had with a previous dog lover not even five minutes before this latest encounter. I feel invisible. Amy spends most of our time together either talking to the dog or about the dog. And when she does talk to me, every minute or two she stops to either kiss, reassure, comfort, feed, or pet her pet. Our last outing was cut short because Amy said the dog was getting too much sun and needed to go home and rest. The dog goes into every shop with us, and there’s always a staff person who scrambles to present her with treats and water. I’ve accepted the fact that the dog is part of our social life, and it’s fine if the back seat of my car is covered in dog hair, right? (I’ve reminded myself that little stays the same … that life change.) I shared my thoughts with Amy without sounding too pouty or annoyed. She made it clear that she’s a ”mommy” now (her word, not mine) and that where her child goes, she goes. End of story.

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