I must freely admit, that ten years ago when my honey and I met I was not an animal person. I wouldn't let them near me, touch me, hated shedding and hair, the smell, and the thought of a bare naked ass looking at me was not pretty. Didn't want them near me, at all. Over the last couple of years, on many occasions, I've looked up to see my honey shaking his head while looking at me saying, "I can't believe what I'm seeing." Me, petting a dog or saying hi to a passing pet. And still, I have not wanted my own. But I'm afraid it happened violently and quickly. I have been stricken. Yesterday we spotted a cute little thing in a shop window that clung to me like you know what on you know what. Today, we went back to look and, guess what, the sign in the window said "Hold for Michelle." I have to say, my heart sunk (but I'll deny it to the end lest anybody see my softer side). The nice shop lesbian lady redirected us to a cute little boy Poodle-Maltese mix born on November 1. We've named him Mason. He's home now, freshly bathed, new bed, and seems exhausted. It's been quite a day for him on, this, his first day in a new home. It's the very first animal that I've ever purchased or owned, other than the ones we had growing up. 45 years old and a brand new kid. Amazing. We've got neighbors coming over in a few hours for a champagne toast and snacks in celebration of our new domestic partnership. And, boy oh boy, won't they be surprised. Married and child. All in the same week. Baby pics are here.