Puppy Dog Blues
Josh and I talk a lot about getting a dog. It would be my first dog ever, and Josh’s first dog in a loooooong time. We pause at adoption events to pet the dogs, and we peruse a local shelter’s website from time to time. We’re in that should-we-or-shouldn’t-we stage.
Every once in a while, we fall in love with a dog. I fell in love with one a few months ago. His name was Frodo. He was adorable. He was staring at me from the shelter’s site, begging me to take him home. Josh pointed out that the dog has “severe emotional issues” and cannot be left alone even for a few minutes during the day. “What will you do when you want to go to the grocery store?” he asked. Fair point, sir, but did you see those big, brown eyes?
Josh fell in love with a black lab at an adoption event. I was at home, so he sent me multiple pictures. He was the perfect size, gorgeous, and came with a tragic story that screamed, “take me home and love meeeeee!” Josh carried around the card for the shelter all day, and we spoke about it a few times. He admitted that the dog was a little frantic, probably not the best match for our chill children. By night time, the dog had been adopted by another family, which put an end to those thoughts.
If I sat down and built the perfect dog, it would be a small breed, preferably one that lives long. As in, a dog that lives forever, like a vampire. On the more sane side, I like short coats: the sort that looks like velvet when you’re running your hands over the dog’s back.
I want a dog that is always going to want to be with me. Like if I’m in the living room, he’s in the living room, too. And if I go into the kitchen to cook dinner, he stands beside me, keeping me company in exchange for bits of food. I want a dog who is going to want to be stroked while I’m reading a book. A dog who is going to watch me play video games. A dog who is going to love car rides and beach trips and outings to the dog park. And if I’m really honest, I want a dog that is small enough for me to carry around the house in my arms.
I want a dog who is going to be my baby.
I am probably not the best candidate for dog parenthood. I clearly want a furry human more than I want a dachshund. And a furry human who defies time and lives forever. But I’m trying to get myself there.