While attempting to get organized yesterday, I stumbled across an envelope in my desk that had "Buddy Foundation" written on it. It was full of cash that students raised to help the foundation by collecting dollar donations way back in February. Even worse than the sinking feeling I had because I forgot about this fundraiser for awhile, I knew that I would have to go and deliver it myself - which is a lot more difficult than one would suspect. You see, I have put down two dogs in the past two months. One dog was with us for only six years, and the other was with us for over thirteen years. I knew by walking into The Buddy Foundation I would be tempted to snag another pooch on a whim, but my age-old wisdom battled this urge, even in sleep. What life has taught me about being a dog owner is two things: dogs are awesome and dogs are hard to have. For once, I have known freedom from the responsibilities associated with having these wonderful four-legged companions. It's kind of nice. No poop to pick up, no huge vet bills, no fixing ripped screens, broken doors, or applying medicine, or constantly filling up water bowls, and no more braving zero degree temps at ten o'clock at night for a stroll in the snow.
Am I some kind of weird-o for actually missing some of this? I do. Is it too soon? Can I learn to live without dogs in my life? Do we have to learn to live without dogs in our lives?
I made a vow that I would not look around as I handed over Vanguard's envelope to the front desk person. But I broke my own vow.
There was a room partitioned off by a glass window. When I looked in I saw Quinn - an eleven week old small yellow lab mix- I froze. He was tiny! By chance (or was it?) one of the volunteers brought him out of the room to be fed by the front desk person - who by some coincidence - was busy, so the volunteer asked me to watch Quinn while he ate. WHY ME? Oh boy. Did I melt! Quinn was just the cutest, sweetest thing! After sitting with him while he made puppy-nibbling-on-kibble sounds, I started to think about bringing Quinn home.
But do I really want to do this now? Do I really want to raise a puppy again?
I didn't really sleep too well thinking about the prospect of making my family grow by one. I tried to weigh the pro's and con's in my head over and over again. His little face kept popping up in my mind's eye.
Today, I can think of nothing else really except Quinn. What I'm trying to figure out is what's the root of this preoccupation? Is it because I really miss my dogs and I can't think clearly? Or, is there really no such thing as coincidence - Quinn was literally brought to my feet and I held him. My goal was to merely hand over an envelope, and now I am preoccupied with thoughts of entering into another life with another dog... man.
