Something Is Missing

Hey there. I have been thinking lately. It must be the stormy skies and approaching September. It's not a bad thing, just a mental shaking out of the sandy beach blanket of my mind. And today it came to me that I was missing something. Something I never really thought of as important.

I can't remember a time growing up when I didn't have a dog, or access to one. We had Boots, then Kasey, then Pupster. There was the neighbor's collie, Sheba, and the neighborhood tough, Grizz--he was an overweight Norwegian Elkhound and almost big enough to ride. Not until I got married and moved to Louisville have I gone very long without a canine to pal around with. And I miss it. A lot.

I think that I am in love with my pretty back yard too, which is why I haven't turned my big brown eyes on Sweetie and asked sweetly for a pooch of our own. I know what kind we would get, though, if we did get a dog. We would get a Jack Russell. You know, an Eddie dog. Sweetie's already named him Darwin. Because 1. It's like the baby talk way we call each other Darling sometimes. GACK. and 2. It flies in the face of organized religion, and we both get a kick out of that. So if we do get a dog, Darwin the terrier it will be. But those guys are high maintenance, baby, and I like to come home and surf and watch TV and eat microwave meals and not take speedy little dogs for walks. I also don't like chew marks on things. No pets in the house, ever.

But to curve your hand to fit the top of a little dog's head, and give him a good hearty pat, and smile into his little dog grinning face, well. I am a sap. I can't pass that up. I would go to the pound to see the puppies but then I'd buy all the sad ones and have to get a kennel license for the yard, and that is NOT going to happen. Right now I can walk out barefoot, at night, and not worry. No one is barking. It is perfectly silent except for a very distant train sounding at a crossing. I don't know anyone with a dog. Well, except our best friends who have a poor brown dog who looks to have undergone a lobotomy sometime in his past, as he stands at their back glass door for three hours straight and stares at the kitchen table legs. I could pet him, but I'd get more emotion from rubbing a feather duster. This is a tough one. Sacrifices, sacrifices!

Dogs are cute. Not having a dog is cheaper.
Dogs are good protectors. Dogs dig up your flowers.
Dogs have funny personalities. Dogs have psycho personalities.

I could go on, but this is the same argument I used to have about dating, and that didn't resolve itself until Sweetie happened along and everything just worked out for the best. We shall see.