Oh how I love him. But as much as I love him, I think he loves me more. Wherever I am, he wants to be. He is my friend and companion and protector. He’s my boy.
Think I’m talking about my husband?
Nope.
I am talking about the 7.5 pounds of pure fury we recently added to our lives.
About a month ago, I made my occasional visit to petfinder.com. I expected to do what I always do – see a bunch of cute pups, feel my heart breaking for all the animals in need in the world, talk myself into getting a dog, talk myself out of getting a dog, lather, rinse, repeat in a few months.
Except this time was different.
I found my dog.
I filled out the adoption application and waited. The only communication I got in return was a standard “Thanks for your application. We’ll be in touch soon.”
That was a Monday. By Friday I was scouring their FB page and website for any kind of info on him. He was listed as being one of the dogs that would be at their adopt-a-thon the next day at a pet store an hour from our home. We arrived as they were unloading their SUV’s. One of the workers had The Squirrel (our nickname for him) in her arms as we drove past. "There he is!!!”
I made O go check on him. Was he was still available? Had they reviewed and rejected our application and that’s why we hadn’t heard anything?
I just couldn’t bear to see him up close and then find out he wouldn’t be ours.
No more loss.
A few minutes later, O came walking up with The Squirrel in his arms. I looked at him like he was crazy. "What are you doing?"
“He’s ours if we want him.”
I sat there for probably fifteen seconds processing what he said.
It was too easy. Where was the struggle? The pain? The uncertainty?
(Is this what our attempts at family building have done to me?)
I took him in my arms and that was it. He was mine. Ahem - OURS, I mean.
The lady that I filled out the paperwork with said she’d spoken with my husband and immediately liked him and wanted The Squirrel to come home with us in the first 30 seconds. My dear sweet genuinely nice husband saves the day again.
The Squirrel is a yorkie-miniature pinscher (or possible Chihuahua) mix. He has the craziest gray hair that sticks up on the top of his head. He looks a little like Don King. Or Alf. We are also told quite often that he resembles the “mean Gremlin” from the 1980’s movie.
Think I’m talking about my husband?
Nope.
I am talking about the 7.5 pounds of pure fury we recently added to our lives.
About a month ago, I made my occasional visit to petfinder.com. I expected to do what I always do – see a bunch of cute pups, feel my heart breaking for all the animals in need in the world, talk myself into getting a dog, talk myself out of getting a dog, lather, rinse, repeat in a few months.
Except this time was different.
I found my dog.
I filled out the adoption application and waited. The only communication I got in return was a standard “Thanks for your application. We’ll be in touch soon.”
That was a Monday. By Friday I was scouring their FB page and website for any kind of info on him. He was listed as being one of the dogs that would be at their adopt-a-thon the next day at a pet store an hour from our home. We arrived as they were unloading their SUV’s. One of the workers had The Squirrel (our nickname for him) in her arms as we drove past. "There he is!!!”
I made O go check on him. Was he was still available? Had they reviewed and rejected our application and that’s why we hadn’t heard anything?
I just couldn’t bear to see him up close and then find out he wouldn’t be ours.
No more loss.
A few minutes later, O came walking up with The Squirrel in his arms. I looked at him like he was crazy. "What are you doing?"
“He’s ours if we want him.”
I sat there for probably fifteen seconds processing what he said.
It was too easy. Where was the struggle? The pain? The uncertainty?
(Is this what our attempts at family building have done to me?)
I took him in my arms and that was it. He was mine. Ahem - OURS, I mean.
The lady that I filled out the paperwork with said she’d spoken with my husband and immediately liked him and wanted The Squirrel to come home with us in the first 30 seconds. My dear sweet genuinely nice husband saves the day again.
The Squirrel is a yorkie-miniature pinscher (or possible Chihuahua) mix. He has the craziest gray hair that sticks up on the top of his head. He looks a little like Don King. Or Alf. We are also told quite often that he resembles the “mean Gremlin” from the 1980’s movie.
I have a serious, serious case of the puppy love. Wouldn't you?
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