I Have a Dog

(( Sigh. )) I have a dog. I did not plan to have a dog. I did not want a dog, but there it is: I have a dog.
I have fallen off the no-pet wagon. My name is Erin and I am a bad owner.
The two dogs I had as a kid thrived only because of my dog-loving mom. Later, as a mom myself, I tried my hand at dog ownership several times,stupidly thinking that the responsibility would be good for my daughters, but, oh no, I am not my mom. When the girls neglected to feed or bathe or brush or clean up messes, I hollered, "It's not my dog!" The dogs never stayed for long.
The best thing that a non-dog person can do for the canine world is admit failure and forever resist the temptation of puppies being given away on the side of the road.
For years, I stayed clean. No dogs.
Then we rescued Bianca for Maura. From November to May, they were best friends. Maura took good care of Bianca (way better dog owner at 22 than at 8), even when suffering the effects of chemo, and Bianca responded by loving Maura with pure doggy love.
Maura willed Bianca to me. Uh-oh.
When Maura died, Bianca mourned. She didn't eat much. She moped.
After a few weeks she chose me. At first it was subtle. I'd notice that she would be lying at my feet, or she might hover at the door of my room. Now she follows me from room to room. As soon as she hears me, she runs to greet me, then flops over on her back, waiting for a belly rub. It doesn't matter if she saw me five minutes ago, it's the same routine. But she's bad. No amount of The Dog Whisperer has changed her. She frolics in the weeds and returns covered in green stickers that I have to pull out one by one. She chases cats and squirrels and big dogs and little dogs. She rolls around in poop-scented mud. She eats poop and then licks me. She is gross.
But I like her better than I've liked any dog before. I care for her and care about her. She reminds me of Maura. Darn. Now what am I going to do?