Almost and Nearly

I don’t want to jinx anything, but if all goes according to plan, we will be adopting a dog in the next several days! I’m just a little excited. We went to Fleet Farm (where, in a stroke of luck, they had wire crates on sale) and then to Petsmart to stock up on food, bedding, and treats. Not that I’m endorsing any particular store, but they just happened to be on the way home.

Here’s the rundown of the weekend:

On Saturday afternoon, we met two dogs who were being fostered together, and would be adopted as a pair. They were a little tired from riding in the car all day and from playing with another family, but the male dog still had a ton of energy. He and Tim played several games of fetch with a squeaky ball toy. At one point, he briefly lost interest in the toy and went to the other side of the room. That is when Tim discovered that the dog left some gas behind. He didn’t say anything until the dogs left, though.

The female dog was more mellow, although she followed the male dog whenever he went into another room. I offered them treats, and she laid down on the kitchen floor in front of the counter, occasionally looking over at us to send subliminal messages: “So, how about giving me some more of that? It’s only been five minutes. Come on, you know you want to. It would be fun for everyone involved.”

There was another family interested in them, but because we had applied first and expressed interest in them first, we had dibs, so we said we’d let them know as soon as we made a decision. We liked them, but had some concerns over the male dog’s separation anxiety. Many Boxers have it to various degrees because they want to be around their people, but he got really worked up, leaving a puddle of drool in his crate because he was panting so hard. And leaving him out of the crate would have been difficult, because he liked to mark things. We hadn’t made up our minds yet, but we were glad to have options.

On Saturday evening, we drove out to visit a female dog we had met previously. She was actually the first dog we’d met from rescue. Her foster family lived across town, but rather than having them make the trip to see us again, I proposed visiting them. Plus, we got to see her in a more comfortable environment. She’d been living there for a few months and she’d bonded with the resident dogs (cats, not so much… they must have looked like fun furry toys to her).

The two resident dogs were hilarious. They had been trained to ring a bell by the door when they wanted to go outside. The male dog would ring the bell with a front paw, then plop himself on the stairs near the front door (sitting with his butt on the step and his back paws dangling off the step, like a person), and then he’d look over his shoulder at his people. I’m not doing it justice, but just thinking about it makes me laugh.

I’m really glad we made that visit, because that nudged us toward adopting her. But we had one more dog to meet, so we were keeping open minds.
On Sunday, we met a young female dog. She was petite and had a very sweet face. She hadn’t been spayed yet, so she was wearing a diaper because she was in heat. She sniffed the entire house as well as every inch of our yard. Because she was still fairly young, there were several people interested in her already. We liked her, and if we hadn’t already bonded to the other dog, we probably would have pursued it further. But we didn’t.

In summary:

Door #1: The male/female pair

Door #2: The larger female (who could probably pass for a pony)

Door #3: The petite female

We chose door #2. We’re hoping to take her home with us on Friday. Links and pictures are forthcoming, as soon as I know it’s real.

Adorable

I’m not procrastinating on my housecleaning or anything… look, puppies!

I know this is a month old, but it doesn’t get any less cute. From the Daily Mail:

A paternal dog has adopted an abandoned baby goat as his surrogate child.

Billy the boxer has become the constant companion of the 12-day old kid called Lilly. He sleeps with the goat, licks her clean, and protects her from any dangers at Pennywell Farm wildlife centre at Buckfastleigh, near Totnes, Devon.

Weekend of Puppies, the Sequel

We’re hoping to have things sorted out this weekend. But I’ve said that before.

On Saturday, we’re meeting a pair of dogs (male and female) that need to be adopted together. They would be a handful, but they’d also be able to entertain each other (in theory…). On Sunday, we’re meeting a solo female dog, and we’re also trying to schedule a repeat visit with a solo female dog we’d met before. They’re all sweet and wonderful in their own ways. We just need to determine the best match for us and the dogs. Plus, there are other people interested, so instead of viewing it as a negative thing, I’m calmly telling myself that if the foster families choose someone else, we’re meant for a different dog.

I’m looking forward to having dogs in the house again, but dreading the silence when they leave. But I’m hoping it won’t be quiet for long.

In the meantime, I’ll be singing this to myself until I can sing it to New Dog(s).

I Remember You

I feel weird about dwelling on other dogs more than I’m thinking about Abby. But the thought of her is never far away. Tonight, when I was attempting to exercise, I kept looking over at the door out of habit, to see if she needed to come inside or go outside. She always planned her excursions when I was in the most awkward stance possible. She was funny that way.

And today I found myself spelling out “chicken,” rather than saying the word, because she always got her hopes up that she was getting a treat. I still spell out “naughty,” because we used that word when she needed to be scolded (which was rare), and I didn’t want her to feel bad when she’d done nothing wrong.

She was quite a comedian when we were getting ready to go to sleep. We would lie in bed reading, and she would settle at the end of the bed, curled up in a little ball near our feet. I would get up to brush my teeth or to check that the house was locked up for the night. When I would come back to bed, there would be a puppy in the spot where I usually slept. She would put her head between her paws, looking up at me furtively. A couple times, I tried to lie down beside her in an attempt to get her to move out of my space, but she wouldn’t budge. It usually took some food bribery (which was rewarding the behavior, I know… but it got her to move, and I got a warm puppy spot out of the deal).

Once Around the Weekend

Warning: Neuroses ahead. Proceed with caution.

A friend of ours came to visit last weekend, which we dubbed The Weekend of Dave. He flew in from D.C. and we showed him around the Twin Cities. It was a great experience to see our town from a tourist’s perspective. And it was really nice to have a break from thinking about the dog situation, because I’ve been putting so much time and energy into it. That’s partially why I haven’t been blogging much lately. I’ve been an anxious ball of nerves, and I’ve been trying not to think about it, yet it’s never far from my mind. It’s been overwhelming, and I find it hard to discuss it coherently.

It’s been hitting us hardest when we’re tired. We had a fun but exhausting weekend, and when I got an e-mail Monday night that another family was interested in the dogs that we’re looking at, I lost it.

And I feel guilty, because those people are in the same situation we are—they lost their longtime companion and are trying to fill that void in their home, and they’ve been dealing with it for longer than we have. My god, I can’t imagine being dogless for five months, even though it already seems like years.

I am not a patient person, and that has become extremely obvious lately. We’ve only been seriously looking for four weeks, but it feels like forever. What if we spend several weeks pursuing a dog, only to be told that another family is a better fit? What if other suitable dogs slip away during the time we were focusing on other dogs? What if we keep meeting dogs that are almost right, but there’s one nagging factor that makes us uncomfortable?

Welcome to the inside of my brain!  

I’m afraid of getting an older dog because we might have to go through the whole grieving process again in five years, and that’s too soon. I’m also afraid of getting a dog with a medical condition that’s either expensive or untreatable, because we just went through that too. If we were to get an active or neurotic dog, I worry that I’d have to entertain the dog every waking moment, which is a lot of pressure. I think I’m putting this pressure on myself unnecessarily, and the dog will settle into our routines and just want to be around us. And I don’t want to sound like we never want to interact with the dog, because we want to take it for long walks and play frisbee and play fetch, activities we haven’t been able to do for a long time. I’m really looking forward to that.

See what I mean about the neuroses? And there’s more!

Do I need to start looking at other organizations, even though I really want to support a particular one, because they’ve been so helpful and kind? There are dogs available through other places, but I feel somewhat guilty contacting them, especially when I’ve expressed interest in six different dogs through one group already.

I should have given up guilt for Lent. Also, anxiety.

Okay, deep breath. I’m going to remember that moment in Rossi’s where I told myself everything was going to be all right, and I believed it.

You Can Forget All Your Troubles, Forget All Your Cares

Two weeks ago, Tim and I celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary in downtown Minneapolis. We got a hotel room so we could imbibe and not worry about driving home. We didn’t have to worry about making sure there was room at the vet for boarding. It was also a Saturday night, so in the old days we would have booked our dog for two nights until we picked her up on Monday, because they’re not open on Sundays. It was a weird freedom to have.

For dinner we went to Fogo de Chao, which is a wonderful place if you like meat, which I do. They walk around to the tables offering various cuts of pork, lamb, steak, chicken, bacon-wrapped steak, bacon-wrapped chicken—you get the idea. It’s all fresh and hot and tasty and meaty and good.

After dinner, we rolled across the street to FireLake, where we had a couple drinks instead of dessert. We walked the skyway for a while, just to give ourselves some space between rounds, and I showed Tim the new Bank restaurant, which was a bank that was converted into a restaurant, and it looks pretty cool from the second floor.

Our skyway tour complete, we stumbled into Rossi’s. I kept rambling throughout the night about our dog situation, and at some point between the Manhattan and the Dirty Monkey, I turned to Tim and said, “You know what? Everything is going to be OK. It’s all going to work out. We’re going to find the right dog, and the right dog is going to find us.” And I felt at peace.

The next morning was a different story.

I should have stopped with the beverages after Rossi’s, but for some reason I thought additional drinks at The Local and at the hotel bar were a good idea. Sometimes, even though you’re in your 30s, you still need to relearn things you were taught years ago.

I’m Always Touched by Your Presents, Dear

Sometimes, during the winter, there are certain backyard tasks that you’re not able to complete before a new coat of snow appears. Then, when it finally reaches a reasonable temperature (or at least reasonable to those of us living in the frozen tundra), the snow melts and reveals what we’ve left undone.  It’s 40 degrees (finally!) and the yard is dotted with little brown presents from our dog.

There’s a slight dip between our yard and the house next door. If the snow melts too quickly, we get a small body of water we refer to as Lake Abby. It is not a place for swimming. Fishing, maybe, if you have a very liberal idea of what you’d like to catch. We try to do ourselves and the neighborhood a favor by staying on top of our cleanup, though.

As long as we’re on the subject, my friend Sue sent a link to an interesting article explaining why dogs like to eat certain things.  I’ll never think of ovens in the same way again.

Barking Spider

From urbandictionary.com: What farts are blamed on when there is no dog available.

Who farted?
Dunno, but I think it’s those barking spiders!

Torn

“Nothing’s right, I’m torn”
– Torn, Natalie Imbruglia

“And the stillness of remembering what you had and what you lost”
– Dreams, Fleetwood Mac

We met two more Boxers today.

One was on his way to meet a potential adopter, and was just along for the ride with the one we were looking at. It was fun to see two Boxers in our house, because that’s our plan for the future.

The first dog was a giant white male dog, and he was quite a mellow fellow. The second dog was a small brindle dog with a lot of energy. She was with us for a few hours, and only sat still for about five minutes before they came to pick her up. We played countless games of fetch both inside and outside, and we took her for a short walk around the neighborhood. She was absolutely adorable, but I think it would be too dramatic of a change for us, going from no energy to a dog who is active 23 out of the 24 hours in a day. I don’t think we’re the best family for her, even though it makes me ache.

She followed us everywhere, and was particularly fascinated by the kitchen, where the treats were, of course. I’d forgotten how comforting it was to have a canine shadow, curious about your every move.

It’s been more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ve had tears weave a path through three layers of Boxer kisses. But it will get better. It’s just going to take time.

These things I know:

• I really want a dog.

• I really want a Boxer.

• Even though we could have had a dog this weekend, we need to wait for the right one to be fair to the dog, and to be fair to ourselves.  The worst thing would be to bring a dog home, only to return her. So we wait. But it’s for the best. She’s out there somewhere, making her way toward us as I type. I have to believe that.

Is You Is or Is You Ain’t my Baby?

We just met an adorable female Boxer. She’s about a year old, and full of energy and kisses. I received several tongue facials courtesy of the dog. I smell like dog breath, but I love it.

Her foster parents brought her over, and it was really interesting to see how she acted in our house. She was very curious, sniffing her way through every room on the first floor. She tilted her head when the furnace came on or shut off.

It was extremely therapeutic for both of us to hear the sounds that have been missing for the last seven weeks: paws on the wooden floor, drinks from a water dish, flops, barks, whimpers, pants.

She explored the back yard, and it’s comforting to look outside and see dog prints mixed in with the rabbit prints.

It took her no time at all to find the treat counter. I fed her some BilJac liver treats, and she kept returning to the spot in the kitchen where I got them to beg for more.

She won’t be ready for adoption for a few weeks. She still needs to get spayed and she’s finishing up some other medical treatments. There’s another couple interested in her, too. They’re adopting a dog from another rescue tomorrow, so it depends if she gets along with their new dog. I’m trying to be zen about it, telling myself that if they’re the right fit, another dog will find us. But I really like her a lot.

The visit counts as our home visit, so we won’t need a separate approval if we apply to adopt this dog or another dog.

We also had a home visit from another rescue this afternoon. We were mildly disappointed that she didn’t bring her dogs with her, even though we wouldn’t be able to adopt them. We were just looking forward to some extra Boxer love. They usually bring dogs along to see how potential adopters interact with them. Because we had previously owned a Boxer, we got a free pass.

We were approved by the second rescue, so we can apply to adopt the dogs they have available. This rescue is in another state, so we would either need to drive to the dog’s foster home or meet them halfway. They seem to be really good at matching dogs to owners, although we wouldn’t know how the dog would act in our home until we brought her there. We would, however, have a good idea of how much she enjoyed car rides.

The woman from the second rescue had met the couple interested in the first dog, and gave them a glowing review. It was reassuring to know from another source that they could give her a good home (even though both rescues screen their applicants to ensure a good match).

I’ve also been e-mailing with someone from the first rescue about yet another dog, who is a female about three years old. We initially set up time to meet on Friday, and I was wondering how I could make it that long. She just called, and we’re meeting the dog tomorrow. I’m really excited. If you could take a picture of my brain waves, it would look something like this:

Puppies! PUPPIES! Puppies! PUPPIES! PUPPIES! PUPPIES! Puppies! Puppies! Puppies! PUPPIES!