Stop me before I adopt again!

I’ve started trolling the Humane Societies.  The Rescues.  The Dog Associations.  I’ve got the bug.  And once I’ve got the bug – I can’t be stopped.  We may as well just say that we’ll have a dog for Christmas.

Butch – possibly my undoing…

On a recent walk, David and I both agreed that we’d be willing to bring another dog into our lives.  (I might have put the idea in his head, but he didn’t fight too hard.)  Provided that it was the ‘right’ dog.  Provided that said dog was a senior canine, calm, good with cats, good with kids and no bigger than medium-sized.  Those were the same criteria we had the last time we did this.

That’s when we adopted Sheta, a shepherd/husky cross, who was at least 10 years old – she’d been surrendered when her owner went into palliative care.  She met all the criteria except she was HUGE, but I knew the moment I saw her that she was right for us.  We’d looked at a few other dogs and they didn’t fit, they weren’t right.  It’s funny that…  I’m a lover of all animals – could sweep them all up in my arms and cuddle them.  Show me a litter of kittens and I could pick almost any of them at random, blindfolded even – I wouldn’t need to bond.  Maybe because I know that cats generally don’t give a rat’s ass about their owners.  Dogs though… dogs bond.  And finding a dog is akin to falling in love.  Sheta was a great dog for our family, having her for the last 2.5 years of her life was a privilege.  

Last night I was looking at head shots – a lab here, a bloodhound there… a bearded collie…  I have this thing for hairy dogs.  I have this thing for ugly dogs.  Ugly hairy dogs?  My undoing.  I grew up a cat person.  We did have a dog, Paws, from the time I was 11, but our family sucked at being dog owners.  We never walked her enough.  We never played with her enough.  As a grown-up, I know what to do with dogs now. Sheta had some pretty sweet golden years.

I don’t exactly know why I have the bug now.  I did babysit a sweet little dog a couple of months back, but I didn’t immediately feel the need for one.  I would have been cool with just babysitting.   Now, though, my gut’s saying it’s time.  And as a person who generally goes by her gut, that pretty much means it’s game over.

Last night as David and I were in the office, I kept sending him links to dogs.  I didn’t say a word.  Didn’t want to distract him too much from his work.

He just sighed.  “You’re hopeless.”

“No I’m not, I’m hopeful.”

I have a sneaky suspicion that we’ll be visiting the local shelter and Humane Society this week.  You know… just to see.