I apologize for being so absent of late, faithful reader (I don’t want to assume that there’s more than one of you – even assuming there is one reader is a stretch). Not to make excuses, but to make excuses: not only did I start a new job with a lot more responsibility, but I also got a dog. If you know anything about this blog, you know that I have a cat, a really dumb cat, but a cat nonetheless. If you don’t know anything about this blog, well, you know that now. You can read about my really dumb cat here.

To recap, a new job with a lot more responsibility, a really dumb cat, the trivial trials of every day life with which to contend, i.e. grocery shopping, etc., plus a new puppy means I have little time to write. It’s a terrible excuse, but there you have it. I went from too much time to not enough. Shit happens.

I didn’t intend to get a puppy. Nobody in their right mind really would, but I’ve been described at times as not having a right mind. I was on an errand at the pet store to get cat food for my dumb cat. My cat eats. He eats quite a bit actually. This means that fairly regularly, I have to go to a pet store and buy the lazy feline more food or he will yell at me. On these occasions, I often encounter pets up for adoption. I pass by the sad little cages with the sad little homeless animals and think to myself, “Awwww, look at all the sad little homeless animals in all the sad little cages,” then I continue on my way to the lazy bastard aisle. Sadly, this time, that wasn’t the case.

On the way to the aisle where they store the lazy bastard food, I passed a dog adoption. I made it almost all the way past the adoption area when I saw the dog. In this little cage was a two-month-old, eight pound dog with floppy ears, a brindle coat, little white feet, chest and chin, and a little white stripe down the center of her head. She looked at me, I looked at her and my first thought was, “Fuck.”

The adoption lady trundled over (in my experience, people who work at pet adoptions are usually ladies who trundle), and against my better judgment, I said that I might be interested in this little dog. The sheet from the pound, whence she originally came, had her listed as a German Shepherd. The adoption lady referred to her as a German Pointer. It wasn’t until I got home and did a quick internet search that I realized she is probably not German at all. Most likely, she is a Pitbull mixed with something else. The brindle coat was a dead giveaway. In any case, she’s a mutt and I don’t really care what breed she is. If I did, I wouldn’t have gotten a dog from a rescue. Every animal I’ve ever had has been a rescue.

It has been fifteen years since I’ve had a dog. I had two dogs then. They were awesome dogs. One was a German Shepherd/Labrador mix and the other was Border Collie/Bouvier des Flandres. They were both rescues and they were both mutts. They came to me much the same was as this one; walk in, “Fuck”, adopt a dog. When my dogs died, I decided not to replace them. When I had dogs last, I had a huge yard in Detroit. Since then, I’ve lived in a series of apartments and it’s just not fair to a dog to do that, unless you have a toy dog and I’m just not a toy dog kind of girl.

When I moved into the house in which I currently reside, which has a big, fenced-in yard, I thought about getting a dog again. I discussed it with my roommate. I thought about it for two years, but I never really expected it to happen. Dogs are a lot of responsibility. Cats are easy; dogs are not.

There I was, buying cat food, and I could not walk away from that cage. I tried. I really did try to walk away. I just couldn’t do it. I thought I’d fill out an application and then they’d come do a home check to make sure I don’t operate a puppy mill or a dog fighting ring, etc. I thought I’d have some time to ruminate on the concept of being a dog owner again, but no. The lady said they decide who gets to adopt based on personality and the discussion that they have with you then and there, so you can take the dog right now. In fact, we’d really appreciate if you’d take the dog right now. In other words, take the dog right now. Oh, crap! But I’m not set up for a dog! I have no dog stuff! I haven’t even discussed it with my roommate! I made the call, half hoping that it would go straight to voicemail, but he answered and said OK, which gave me no outs.

I have a cat, but dogs need entirely different things than cats. I don’t need a kennel, chew toys or a leash for my cat. I basically had to start from scratch. $200 later, I walked out the door with all the essential dog supplies, a dog and even a bag of cat food. And, to prove just how strange my cat really is, he and the dog got along famously almost from the first minute I brought her home. They squabble from time to time over who gets to chew on which toy, but other than that, they’re best buddies. The cat holds vigil with the dog whenever I’m not home. I’m not sure that the cat is a good role model.

So, now I have a dog. One unexpected side effect of having a dog again is that it’s bringing up old memories of when I last had dogs. For fifteen years, whenever I thought of my dogs, it would make me sad and I’d automatically say, “I want another dog,” but now when I think about dogs, a smile comes to my face. I race home every day to play with her. It’s really nice coming home again to two wagging tails.