So it’s January. For the past nine years, I have spent each January in Omaha. Those days are usually filled with snow and the overall nastiness of grime, salt and gravel. In Dallas, however, we spend our afternoons enjoying the sunshine and walking around White Rock Lake. It’s pretty wonderful, except that I keep thinking, “Is winter coming soon?”
Last week, while on one of our walks, there was a woman with the cutest little dog. We don’t know what kind of dog it was, some sort of silky terrier mix or something, but the thing was adorable. I started making strange little noises because the dog had some sort of power over my vocal chords and while looking polite about the whole thing, I may have freaked out the dogs owner. We got to see the little ball of cuteness twice because the owner had circled back around and let me tell you, I was contemplating a dog-napping. The owner was this skinny little woman and I was sure we could’ve taken her down while the other one grabbed the puppy and ran. I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have been caught, either. But we didn’t. Instead, we just started thinking.
Thinking and talking. Mostly thinking about how great it would be to come home and have a tiny thing be really excited your home, even if the little thing was so excited that it pee-ed in the floor, we wouldn’t be upset. After all, the tiny pet is so cute! Mostly talking about the expense and what would be required (middle of the night potty sessions and trips to the doggie ER and one of those harness collars so that they couldn’t slip their little head through a cheap but sexy rhinestone collar and food and probably about $1000/year).
Saturday morning we woke up, talked some more and decided that we were going to go out and adopt a puppy. While I got ready, Jud got online and started checking out puppies in the shelters. While Jud got ready, I did the same thing. What we found were some really sad stories (one dachshund puppy had all his ribs showing because his last owner left him tied up in a room with no food and no water for who knows how long. He was a pretty sad little 2 year old, but he was also lovable and shy. One terrier looked just like the spawn of a rat and a fraggle – strange tufts of hair and freaky eyes. He had obviously been neglected, had fleas, mange, and all sorts of things. He was pathetic and scary). I’m pretty moved by the one paragraph synopsis of abuse these dogs endure, but then completely repulsed by their pictures. Anyway, what we found were plenty of dogs too far away to go check out (the skinny dachshund was in Austin) and plenty of fear about having something that needs us all the time.
So, we remain dog-less.
For now.
Until we have our own little Gibroni Dog…
