Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The dog - part 1

Anyone who knows me knows that I love dogs.  I'm a bit of a dog-aholic really if I can make up a word.  Just before my husband and I got married we bought a puppy.  His name was Geordi and he was a Pembroke Welsh Corgi.  He fell asleep in my lap as a wee puppy and from that moment on I was smitten.   He was my baby.  But all good things must end and when Geordi was no longer a part of my life, I was heartbroken.

Life has a funny way of turning out sometimes and ironically, I ended up becoming owned by two cats.  They are lovely pets that have taught me about patience and boundaries and I love them both dearly.  However, they aren't dogs.  I yearned for a dog.  

I have been in this state of longing for years.  I used to surf Petfinder as often as some men surf for porn.  I used to sit on the bench outside of the off-leash park and watch the dogs play and run with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes.  We tried once to get a puppy while we were in Toronto, but neither the puppy nor the timing was right and we regretfully sent her back to the rescue society.  A beautiful German Shepherd cross, she quickly found a new home, but I was left a little traumatized.  What if that happened again?  What if the time is never right?  What if I never find another dog to love like I loved Geordi?

Fortunately for me I have a very smart husband.  He knew that having a dog in my life would make me happy. And he wanted to see me happy.  We decided to start looking in earnest.  

Now one would think that this would make me very happy.  Well, one would be wrong.  I was wracked with doubt.  Was I expecting too much?  Would a dog truly make me happy?

Then came the self abuse.  You can't handle a dog, you can barely handle what you have in your life right now.  Dogs need exercise, do you think you'll walk it everyday?  If you love walking so much, why aren't you doing it without the dog?  You're using it as a crutch.  It won't fix all the problems in your life.  It won't make you happy.  It's so much work.  They're expensive.  What will you do if something happens?  And the kicker - what will other people think??

I wrestled with these questions.  I agonized.  I journalled about it, talked to friends, prayed for a sign and then finally my darling husband in his no-nonsense way said to me "either shit or get off the pot."

So I shat.






  
  

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