So here’s the story. I take my two dogs to the groomer on Monday morning. (Yes, I already own two dogs.) That day they were also having dog adoptions. It was risky just walking into the store.
I had no intention of adopting a dog that day. But there was a little puppy there rescued from South Central L.A. and he needed us.
I think my exact words when I walked into the house and saw the Golfer was, “Now don’t be mad.”
He’s a total mutt. A mixture that we named Norman. When people ask me what kind of dog he is, I’m going to say, “Californian.”
But three dogs? I know that it seems a little…nuts, and I’ve wondered in the last 48 hours if I’m hitting some kind of mid-life crisis, but then I had an epiphany when I woke up yesterday. I can’t have anymore kids so to replace the baby that my uterus has been longing to have, I went out and adopted a dog instead.
“It could have been worse,” I told the Golfer. “I could have gone down to South Central and bought a kid instead.”
Much like Freddie, our other rescue puppy, this dog is just happy to have a home. He’s 8 months old and love to play and fetch a ball and sit on your lap. Instead of snuggling with my new baby, I’m snuggling with Norman.
I come by this naturally. I’ve always had pets, multiple pets. In my lifetime I have owned a total of 6 dogs, 3 cats, 1 rabbit, a couple of parakeets, and one goldfish that lasted about 1 hour. Oh, and then there’s the 2 guinea pigs that I bought for my boys and the beta fish that the Golfer brought home with the Cheese (but you can read all about that in my book.)
A home without animals just feels weird to me.
Could you have just left him there?