Newest Dietrich family member, Dickens
Last Sunday I made a new resolution. SodaPop had been gone for a month, and I still missed her dearly.
"I think in a year or so I'm going to look for another dog," I told my boyfriend. "And for whatever reason, I've decided I'd like to go with eitehr a Chihuahua or a Chihuahua-cross." My BF's eyebrows raised, almost imperceptibly. Almost.
Ginger does not appreciate large breed dogs in general, so I knew I would have to go smaller. I'm actually partial to rescue Greyhounds, but knowing that Ginger would have the kind of hissy fit only pit bulls can have if someone larger than her appeared on her doorstep, I decided against it. I sure as hell don't need any more vet bills.
Throughout the conversation, my favorite picture of Ginger and SodaPop sat on the coffee table beside us.
Monday morning my BF drove 287 back to Indiana and I was alone with my resolution. Back at work, I sat and stared at the computer screen. Around mid-morning, the calls seemed to stop dead, and a dangerous boredom set in. A thought occurred to me. Since when do shelters even have any Chihuahuas available? It's all pit bulls and German Shepherds, neither of which mix well with an existing pit.
Only one way to find out. Off I went to the website for the Dane County Humane Society. One by one, I scrolled down through the unwanted canines. Not one looked less than 50 pounds, and my landlady is a real BITCH about dog size!
Yellow Lab
Pit Bull
Pit Bull
Black Lab
Shepherd Cross
Pit Bull
Rat Terrier...
Well, that one was small. I instantly pictured a bouncing, barking bundle of destruction unleashed in my home. Moving on...
Pit Bull
Rottweiler Cross
Pit Bull
I looked over at Ginger and shook my head at all her sadly imprisoned relatives. No question about it--two pit bulls would be more than I could handle.
Bullet dodged, I left the DCHS website and busied myself with actual work for some time. Then, another pernicious thought: What about Columbia County? Hell, I don't even live in Dane County any more--why would I look there? New google. Columbia County Humane Society.
Black Lab
Pit Bull
Pit Bull
Chihuahua
Shit
There he was. A buff and white long-haired Chihuahua with super soft (you could tell) floppy ears. Neutered male, roughly 3 years of age, recently rescued from an Amish puppy mill. (The Amish run puppy mills?) Also in the picture could be seen two enormous blue eyes. Miss Cocoa's eyes, staring at me from that fish tank in 1993...
"I think in a year or so I'm going to look for another dog," I told my boyfriend. "And for whatever reason, I've decided I'd like to go with eitehr a Chihuahua or a Chihuahua-cross." My BF's eyebrows raised, almost imperceptibly. Almost.
Ginger does not appreciate large breed dogs in general, so I knew I would have to go smaller. I'm actually partial to rescue Greyhounds, but knowing that Ginger would have the kind of hissy fit only pit bulls can have if someone larger than her appeared on her doorstep, I decided against it. I sure as hell don't need any more vet bills.
Throughout the conversation, my favorite picture of Ginger and SodaPop sat on the coffee table beside us.
Monday morning my BF drove 287 back to Indiana and I was alone with my resolution. Back at work, I sat and stared at the computer screen. Around mid-morning, the calls seemed to stop dead, and a dangerous boredom set in. A thought occurred to me. Since when do shelters even have any Chihuahuas available? It's all pit bulls and German Shepherds, neither of which mix well with an existing pit.
Only one way to find out. Off I went to the website for the Dane County Humane Society. One by one, I scrolled down through the unwanted canines. Not one looked less than 50 pounds, and my landlady is a real BITCH about dog size!
Yellow Lab
Pit Bull
Pit Bull
Black Lab
Shepherd Cross
Pit Bull
Rat Terrier...
Well, that one was small. I instantly pictured a bouncing, barking bundle of destruction unleashed in my home. Moving on...
Pit Bull
Rottweiler Cross
Pit Bull
I looked over at Ginger and shook my head at all her sadly imprisoned relatives. No question about it--two pit bulls would be more than I could handle.
Bullet dodged, I left the DCHS website and busied myself with actual work for some time. Then, another pernicious thought: What about Columbia County? Hell, I don't even live in Dane County any more--why would I look there? New google. Columbia County Humane Society.
Black Lab
Pit Bull
Pit Bull
Chihuahua
Shit
There he was. A buff and white long-haired Chihuahua with super soft (you could tell) floppy ears. Neutered male, roughly 3 years of age, recently rescued from an Amish puppy mill. (The Amish run puppy mills?) Also in the picture could be seen two enormous blue eyes. Miss Cocoa's eyes, staring at me from that fish tank in 1993...
Conveniently posted at the top of the page was the adoption application link. The pages virtually printed themselves, but took a little while to fill out given the audacity of incoming callers who all demanded my full attention.
Most of these shelters have limited hours--this one was no different. It would open today at noon--my clock read 11:13. As the clock struck twelve, I hit the send button on my fax machine, and the wheels on this brakeless bus began to move. I had officially broken my resolution less than 24 hours after declaring it--at least by intent.
I dialed their number.
"HellomynameisNancyI'dliketoknowifBlueisstillavailable?" Took breath.
"Just a moment, Ma'am, is this your fax?"
"Yes--Is he available?"
"He is." She unsuccessfully stifled a giggle.
________________________________
Most of these shelters have limited hours--this one was no different. It would open today at noon--my clock read 11:13. As the clock struck twelve, I hit the send button on my fax machine, and the wheels on this brakeless bus began to move. I had officially broken my resolution less than 24 hours after declaring it--at least by intent.
I dialed their number.
"HellomynameisNancyI'dliketoknowifBlueisstillavailable?" Took breath.
"Just a moment, Ma'am, is this your fax?"
"Yes--Is he available?"
"He is." She unsuccessfully stifled a giggle.
________________________________
He isn't anymore. He is now sleeping in a mess of recklessly rearranged blankets inside of Ginger's monstrous kennel. Ginger, unperturbed, lies sleeping on the sofa with my legs propped, as usual, across her back.
Don't get me wrong. It's good to have resolutions. Otherwise, how would we ever know how badly we wanted something new in our lives? Eight days after my decision, and 357 days shy of fulfilling it, I felt the beating heart of a rejected and terrified bundle of fur (with super soft floppy ears) against my chest, and decided that this little Dickens was the best broken promise I had ever made.
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