A Beginning

I have always been close with my sister. When we were kids, we used to confide in each other about whether Joey or Jordan was cuter. As time progressed, we whispered secrets to one another regarding crushes and must-have shirts and dresses.

When I went to college, I focused on friends and parties but I always knew I could call my sister. Then I moved to Chicago and we were the inseperable duo we used to be when we were hunting down imaginary friends behind the refridgerator.

My family is the perfect example of the millennial generation unit. We are always connected. I talk to my mom three times a day (at least) and my sister exponentially more. Some people think it is too much, but for me it's just right.

So in 2006, when Freddy came along, I was scared my access to my sister would gradually ween. A year later she got married and I was the #2 best friend now.

Since the wedding, I was used to not having her 100% of the time but I had no idea what was in store for me when baby Augie came along.

Those of you who know me, know that as maternal and nurturing as I am, I did not inherit the pregnancy gene. What I mean by that, is that I cannot wrap my head around the thought of carrying a ten pound baby inside my 115 pound frame. I hate the idea of growing hair on my stomach, my ankles swelling into my legs and my face looking like I was permanently punched.

My sister must have been able to read this on my face as each day she got bigger, I stood back in horror. My little itty bitty sissy was twice her size, but to my surprise she couldn't have been happier. She loved having this human life inside her.

I was so proud of the way she never complained and went into labor calmly and elegantly as only she could.

Aside from being ready to constantly pass out in the labor and delivery room, I was in awe. I still can't believe that a live, eating, breathing actual human came from my sister. As my mom said, it can only be explained by chalking it up to a "miracle".

Initially, I was scared to death to touch the baby. I was convinced that I would be an utter failure at an aunt/mother figure and drop Augie on his head.

I didn't end up dropping the baby (thank God) and instantaneously realized that this baby was worth all the physical discomfort that pregnancy brings. Unbeknownst to Augie, he also just gave me another reason to always be by my sissy.

I may not be ready for motherhood yet (who am I kidding, I'm definitely not ready), but I am ready for the next logical step in my life. Ladies and gentleman, I am................................................. getting a new puppy!!!! Stayed tuned next week to meet the one and only - GUIDO.

Toys

"You are amazing...seriously. I am in awe. Totally obsessed."

My boyfriend repeated these types of outstanding compliments over and over again. Instead of soaking them up, I stood in my kitchen shaking my head.

How did I get myself in this situation? Since when did I become second fiddle to something smaller and plainer than me??

Well, I guess it happened precisely when the new iPhone came out. I instantly became less important.

I have never seen anything like it. My boyfriend sleeps next to it, holds it constantly even if we're hugging and stares at it for so long his eyes water. It was the apple of his eye.

Every time I think I am getting a little bit of QT with him and the conversation is rolling, I will ask him a question and the inevitable follows.

"Wanna find out? I can look it up on my phone."

Ugh. No, I don't want to find out. Want to know what I feel like doing? I feel like throwing that thing out the window as far as I can see and watch it die a slow, screen breaking death.

One day I was so frustrated that my precious alone time was being monopolized by the phone, I huffed out my front door in a fury. Hopeless and indignant, I decided to call my personal adviser - my sister.

She enlightened me. "You have to create boundaries." The phone will not be allowed within five feet of us if we were hugging or talking over dinner. The phone will be turned off when sleeping. And most important, the phone is not the source of all things good and wonderous.

I was familiar with these boundaries. The most important part of being a dog owner is setting limits. Let the dog know who's boss.

When you get a new puppy you are always practicing letting your puppy know when to play, when to eat, when not to bite, where not to sleep and when to sit.

Sometimes they listen. And sometimes they fight you. Sometimes you give in (most of the time). Sometimes you don't (very rarely).

I hoped to prove a more successful track rate with my boyfriend and his love.

I've been practicing asserting myself lately. Occassionally, hiding the phone from him. Telling my dog to get off the couch and allow room for my boyfriend and I to be lazy. I figured I needed to be equal in my boundary setting actions.

But even after all these efforts, the second you're not looking, they're back at their toys. Boys will be boys I guess. Astor is back at his ball I hid and Mark is back on his phone. I am still trying to be the boss, but I always have online shopping as my toy and my boyfriend is letting me getting away with that for now.

Milo the Maniac

His name is Milo. He is 20 pounds of pure adrenaline. His white fluffy coat should not be mistaken for weakness. He is a maniacal killing machine. The great white killer is his persona when in the great outdoors. If there is a chipmunk or snake in sight, he will find it and take care of business.

In the house, though, great white is an attention hog. All he wants to do is lay in your arms and get tummy rubs. This personality is called Mi-Bear. He nuzzles as close as he can get until he covers at least 60 percent of your body.

The first time my boyfriend met Milo, he was preying on a poor innocent baby rabbit. He greeted Mark with a red stained beard and glassy eyes. Not the best introduction. Mark soon realized that Milo suffered from multiple personality disorder.

Was every dog like this? Did they have a carnal, killing side to them that could be repressed inside around people, but not in their natural element?

To an extent, I guess we all have different personalities. My best friend named her different side, Denise. Denise loves to dance. Denise also loves to call me at 4 a.m. on weekdays. I do not like Denise.

In a less ostentatious manner, I guess I have a few identities. Professional Lauren. Social Lauren. Kid Lauren. And my favorite, doggie Lauren.

It's fun to be able to wear different hats..put on appropriate outfits and act the part. I guess it's a flash back to childhood when you could be an astronaut, archaeologist and magician on the same day. Inside your amazing imagination you can be anything you desire.

When I come home to see Milo, though, the one personality I always want to see is genuine Milo. Plain, old, crazy whacked out dog.

This goes for my human friends too. After a night out on the town, I love to come home and hang out with my boyfriend. No forced conversation, extra-chipperness or uber-social antics. I wash my face and I am able to embrace my natural "Lauren." She is somewhat of a loner and loves zoning out to reality TV.

It's still fun to embrace other arenas that are outside my comfort zone or bring out a different side of me, as long as when I come home, I am the same old, boring, sensitive, loving - me.

My mouth

I have a terrible habit of putting my foot in my mouth. Case in point...one day I was walking down Southport with my sister and saw a sweet little black dog. Naturally, I went up to pet it. Attempting to compliment this adorable little guy, I told his owner that he had the most beautiful blue eyes. My sister immediately jabbed me in the side. I obviously still hadn't put two and two together. The owner let out a slight laugh and said, "Honey, those are cataracts."

Wow. I'm a girl of many words but at this point, I chose to just walk away, shamed.

What is wrong with me?? How could I have not put this together? I'm a dog lover and have been around plenty of old dogs.

A second example of my idiot-dum, occurred this past weekend. I was hosting one of my best friend's engagement parties and couldn't be happier by the show in attendance. But when a crowd comes along, my awkwardness follows suit. For some reason I can't keep it together around a lot of people. I mix up the order of my words and try to bust out jokes that either lay flat or die completely on arrival.

My friend was used to this but she was not used to what I was about to say. When I was trying to tell her how happy I was for her and what a good guy she found, I proceeded to go off about all the women that would want to date or marry him and how she needs to watch out.

Good intentions, totally wrong execution.

I think I have a clinical disorder where my obstinate mouth fails to follow my brain and hopelessly dribbles out nonsense. There should be a treatment for this before I offend everyone around me.

Luckily, I'm only with people 1% of my day. My job is right for me on so many different levels and an apparent benefit is that I won't affront people on a daily basis.

There is a dog that I walk that I have always felt a deep bond with. She is a little cooky and ticks off most dogs around her.

After studying her behavior, I realized what it was. When she met another dog she would either go right for the jugular or to the less desirable parts. There was no, "Hi, it's nice to meet you, my name is Dog. Now can I please smell your butt?" It was more like, "Move it buddy, I'm going to smell your butt whether you like it or not."

Poor girl. She was obviously never versed in dog etiquette and scared off most friends before she could make them. This was my kind of girl, though. We were the offensive team together. Watch out Chicago, we will single-handedly scare off your dog and owner simultaneously.

Now my dog on the other hand, was always very polite. He would give the standard kisses and smells and would always have deep conversations before ever offending anyone.

I decided from now on before I talk, I will vow to ask my dog what he would do, because all the dogs in the neighborhood seem to be in love with him. Leave it up to my eloquent little buddy:) Maybe I will start taking tips from him now on.

Bureaucracy

I cried numerous times this week. But there was only one cause of my angst - bureaucracy. First perpetrator? My health insurance company.

Lets play out the scenario. Three conversations prior to my sinus surgery, I was assured that 90% of my surgery would be covered. Now, my health insurance company decided to have amnesia because it was apparently all my responsibility to bear. So, I decided to embark on a fact-finding mission.

During my first call, I was greeted by that infamous woman - the automated operator. I imagine the person that created this female (lets call her Jane) thought her voice would evoke calm and peace. To me, though, this voice had the uncanny ability to drive me to pure insanity in less than 30 seconds.

Today, we were off to a bad start. Jane was prompting me to give my health insurance policy number but "could not understand" me after four tries. Maybe she couldn't understand me because she repeatedly interrupted me while I was beginning to say my ID number.

Instead of transferring me to the real operator (the humane thing to do), Jane was dead set on getting my information before I could speak to anyone. I found myself screaming into the phone in the middle of Jewel - 8 - 0 - 3 ....A few women walked by me wondering why my face was beat red and why I was so mad at my phone, but a young guy sauntered by and gave me a knowing look. He knew all about Jane and her inability to comprehend numbers.

Finally, Jane decided to let me speak to her cohort. By the time I reached this poor woman, I was so exasperated that I had to catch my breath. I proceeded to tell her that 'Jane' was impossible to deal with and that I almost had a nervous breakdown trying to get through to her.

The operator was not interested in Jane or her peskiness, instead she informed me that she had no information regarding my case. Three people, and still no information. Apparently there was only one person that could help me finalize my claim - Jennifer. The problem was that Jennifer wouldn't call me back and I was beginning to think that this was purposeful as I left her more than five cryptic messages, each one getting more desperate and irate.

Normally, I consider myself a patient person, but today Jane just threw me over the edge. On top of all of that, I was knee deep in parking ticket issues with the City of Chicago. I am convinced that simultaneously dealing with these two organizations could send someone to the asylum.

The next stop on my bureaucratic meltdown was the post office. There were eight people in line and two postal workers. In a normal working environment this would take 10 minutes, but at the post office it naturally took 30. When I finally got up to the desk, the oblivious postal worker decided it was her obligation to fill in her fellow colleague about her weekend plans. I sat there dumbfounded.

"Excuse me miss, do you not see me here? The lowly US Post Office customer that is about to go postal on this place unless you take care of me soon and stop talking about your weekend of debauchery???"

This conversation played out in my head many different ways until she finally came back to me. But right then and there, I completely lost my gumption.

The point is that these bureaucracies unfortunately exist and they can either drive you insane or you can learn how to deal with them. I can assure you that crying is not the best coping method but I can also tell you that I know one way to let it roll off your back.

Meditation didn't work so well and either did yoga, but coming home to my dog and laying around petting his long, awesome pony tail ears did the trick. It's amazing how dogs can calm you down. So if you're in the middle of a bureaucratic crisis? Take some time to give your dog a belly rub and everything will seem OK in the world.

My week of nothing good

There are certain procedures that are categorized as "elective surgeries." By elective, I mean totally sadistic, wholly unnecessary and completely miserable. This is exactly what "elective" means when qualified by the word "surgery."

When thinking about a change of profession, you typically go through a check list in your head as to the difference in salary, location and hours. You don't usually think about how your allergies will be with your new job. So when I decided to create a company called, "Dogs Deserve It", I failed to keep in mind that I was painfully allergic to my future clients.

When confronted by a dog that sheds, my eyes swell up, I immediately loose my sense of smell and my chest usually starts itching. This has never stopped my dog obsession, though. I have learned how to deal with it and to my boyfriend's chagrin, mastered the art of nasal irrigation. It's not pretty but it works.

I have always debated on getting sinus surgery so that I can live a more pain-free dog loving life. But I've always come up with a million reasons why it wasn't the right time.

However, after my third sinus infection of 2010, I was ready to take on the beast. When I went in to meet with my surgeon, he made the recovery sound like a week laced with lollipops and gumballs. He reassured me that the post-surgery pain killers would make the experience very tolerable and dare I say it - pleasant.

I could envision it now...four days of blissful sleep, mounds of fashion mags to read at my leisure and continuous HGTV.

It turns out that my surgeon was a liar. Not only was he lying about the recovery, but he was vastly toning down the extent of my procedure.

My pain was not numbed by pills. In fact, I threw them all up sooner than I could swallow them. My face was so swollen that it looked as though I bathed in dog dander for two straight days. What was worse, was that my boyfriend was going to see me in one day.

There was no makeup you could put on to cover up the fact that you basically looked like you just got a very expensive nose beating. I was in too much pain to cry and all of the nasal splints were damaging my ability to ever produce a semi-female sounding voice. Right now I sounded like a bad version of Barry White.

My dad upon seeing me, called me Rudolph and Cyclops. Leave it up to a man to make such astute observations.

Two days into recovery and I was hopeless. I wanted to rip my nose off my face and simultaneously go on a 25-mile run. The only thing that kept me going were my dogs. I can't even put into words exactly what it meant to have a constant companion by my side. Aside from giving my face a few weird looks, they were non-judgmental. My dogs were my normalcy and peace that I longed for.

Milo would lay on me all day, only getting up to go outside and play with his brother. I spent the next few days in suffering but I passed the time how I usually do, hanging out with dogs. I never got down a pain killer, but being around dogs definitely made my mind drift away from the pain.

Now that my face is unswollen and I can breathe again, my boyfriend asked me if I would do it all over again. It's easy to say never again but as I walk into a client's home that houses a golden retriever, I smile and think that I can hang out in here for awhile and roll around in dog hair without looking like cyclops.

Country

I was never meant to live in the country. When I grew up, I dreamt of city lights and bustling passerbys. The only passerbys I witnessed in the country were either cows or deer. This just didn't do it for me.

I think I knew I would move to a city when I was ten. My mom used to ask me where I wanted to live when I got older and I would describe a penthouse on Michigan Avenue.

Obviously, I was a savvy kid. I knew what I wanted and it was not being 2 miles away from any type of civilization.

For a good 15 years though, I think my parents were in denial. They thought as I matured and the years passed, I would eventually end up back in Wisconsin...my heart yearning for the serenity and goodness that the state provides.

Instead, I ended up becoming more immersed in the city vision. Maybe it's the whole Sex and the City persona you adopt in college when watching entirely way too many episodes and dreaming about independence. Whatever it was, I knew I was destined for urban life.

In my dream city now, I take solace in the chaos. I would hands down rather be lulled by the sound of speeding cars than pestering, chirping birds. In fact, when I go back to Wisconsin I bring ear plugs specifically for the purpose of drowning out this doldrum.

I really wonder, though, if a city is the best environment you can raise your dog in. I always notice that my dog seems a million times happier when he is in Wisconsin. He is at home with the 500 species that live right outside his front door and takes comfort in being able to kick up actual grass rather than stones.

Have you ever thought that maybe your dog is talking to other animals outside? I've seen those You Tube episodes where dogs become best friends with birds or even stranger, 500 pound bears. Maybe it's because they all have some universal carnal language. Whatever the case, they bond and seem entirely way too happy to be coexisting together.

When my parent's dog comes to the city, he goes into shock. I am always tempted to go knock on my neighbors door and tell them not to judge me. It is guaranteed that he will bark at everyone he trots by, will lunge as he gets out of the elevator, ready to take on the thin air, and howl as he walks outside - a warning signal to anything non-animal approaching.

He is never happy about coming to the city. The various things I love like the gated in parks and people filling the streets, do not amuse or liken him to Chicago. After the first hour here, he usually goes into fits of anxiety and exhausts himself.

So was Milo right? Was it unnatural to have dogs in the city? I guess it may not be the best place where a dog reflects on his primitive nature, but it is certainly filled with a million dog lovers. You can shop with your dog, eat with your dog, go to do playgrounds and bring your dog to work. In my world, this seems like some pretty cool doggy opportunities. So maybe it's wise to let your dog have the best of both worlds. He now can hang out in his city apartment or travel to his country home. Not too bad of a life for a dog.