Life catches up with you when you’re not looking. Actually, when you’re avoiding it, it hits you like a mack truck; life’s way of saying “snap out it already!”

About three months ago I adopted a puggle named Walker. My brother-in-law’s friend needed to find his dog a new home because one of his children was allergic to the furry little guy. At the time, my boyfriend and I were hesitant to take on another fur person with two cats already running the home, but we were committed to help find the pup a loving home.

A couple of weeks later … Walker became part of our family. Our search for a new home for Walker didn’t work out as we had hoped, but it seemed to have worked out as it was meant to be. While I had been thinking about adopting a  dog for some time, I was hesitant. Even though my heart had plenty of love to give, my head, and some wise friends, were keeping me in check reminding me of the costs associated with the new addition. Though there were two of us to care for the possible three fur people in the home, I had an off feeling nagging at me, in the pit of my stomach. But when it came down to the reality of Walker going to a pound, I just couldn’t bear it.

That off feeling? It was the air horn of the mack truck in the distance trying to warn me; trying to wake me up from the denial I had allowed myself to sink into like quicksand. I knew deep down that it was highly likely that there would eventually end up only being one person in the household to care for the animals; though I didn’t want to admit it, yet, the relationship I was in had to come to an end.

Love is blind; or maybe hope is. Perhaps, as we get older, okay … as I get older … I see what I want to see; what I hope to see and what I hope to be. Maybe age has nothing to do with it and it’s just the person. Me. Whatever the case, wherever my mind, heart, soul was … I’m awake now, thanks to the mack truck. A little foggy and sore from the big hit of reality, but awake nonetheless. If only I had listened to that intuition, that air horn in the distance.

Now, here I am. Single, mother of three fur people (don’t jump on that all at once you eligible bachelors out there; I know it’s hard to resist!); busy scooping a litter box, cleaning up cat puke and dog pee, picking up dog poop in baggies that I carry in a little red fire hydrant attached to a matching red leash, refereeing furry fights. And dealing with myself. The real me. The one that I was ignoring for quite some time. The one that I let go emotionally, physically.

Let me add to the above description … I am a single, 35-year-old, overweight (again) mother of three fur people. Searching to find my get-up-and-go that got-up-and went. If found, please email allyson@cupcakesandcatfood.com.

If my Mama were here, she’d say “pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and start all over again.” But I just wanna cry and scream “but I don’t wanna!” Sometimes I just want to sleep or become a television zombie (thanks reality tv!).

If I knew then what I know now or if I had at least listened to that air horn in the distance, I probably wouldn’t have Walker in my life, and in a way I think he is what is saving me … from myself. So, I may lie around in a boob tube zombie state, but the furry guy reminds me that he needs me; forces me to get off my tuckus and take him out into the fresh air for a walk. Because of him I’ve met more neighbors (something about a cute pup gets people talking) and had more conversations than I would have had otherwise. Sure, I’ve spent more on vet bills, and dog training and pet food, but he keeps me going. He makes me discover new things like dog parks and the number of fire hydrants and telephone poles on my block. Walker Texas Ranger AKA Chuck Norris was somehow meant for me; to save me.