I am someone who likes to prepare for everything. I like to have a game plan in line and then execute. The entire summer of 2014 was not any different. I was a woman on a mission and that mission was to get a dog.
On June 21st, while most youngsters were planning summer raves and binges on the beach, I was setting my alarm for an hour before work to research available rescue dogs online. I fell asleep at night with the laptop still running and warm on my lap scavenging through adoptapet.com. I was a hungry hippo and my meal of choice were cute, fluffy, homeless animals. My only requirements were that the pup was under 30 pounds (I have trouble picking up the newspaper in the morning due to lack of muscle) and potty trained. The bathroom issue was my father’s demand if I wanted the animal living under his roof. With over three million rescue animals out there how hard could it be for me to find a match?
Sigh, come to find out the answer is it is very hard. Flash forward to the end of August, what feels like 25 DENIED rescue applications later, lots of ugly crying, and still I found myself with no dog. All signs pointed to it was time to throw in the chew toy.
In the beginning of September I went on mini trip with Ranee (mom) to New York. This seemed like just what I would need to rewind and let my lap companion dreams fade into the summer air. Time to get back to my old self. Below is the sequence of events of how the trip played out:
Day 1: Dramatic sadness; Why doesn’t anyone love me?
Day 2: Irrational anger; Who needs a dog anyways! Good riddance!
Day 3: Bargaining; Even if the dog only has three legs I will take it. Just give me a sign.
Day 4: Eureka! A woman posts online that her dog had an accidental litter and she needs to get rid of the dogs as soon as possible. Her torture is my reward!
Day 5: No time like the present. On the way home from the trip with Ranee, I let the cat out of the bag and tell her that I am driving two hours the next day to Dracut, MASS to see a puppy. She has some resistance due to the fact that a newborn is most certainly not potty trained and that was my father’s ONE requirement. I reassure her that I am just looking and she should not fret.
Day 6: I find myself in Dracut sitting on the floor of a stranger’s house while 5 dogs are laying on top of me scratching and clawing.
Day 6 is a wonderful time that I will never forget. It was a moment in my life that I really threw caution to the wind. Of course I was still running point after point in my head of how bad of an idea it would be to take one of these wackjobs home but for once I said, “ah what the hell! I will take that one”. I pointed to the apricot fuzz ball that is currently peeing NEXT to a pee pad.
A few minutes later, the lunatic is in my car sitting inside a used box that once held toilet paper. As I am about to drive out of the driveway, the woman flags me down to stop the car. She mentions her son is about to get off the bus and would never forgive her if she didn’t let him say bye to his favorite puppy. I, of course, said no problem and got out of the car holding the dog waiting for the school bus to stop.
The kid jumps off with his backpack sagging. He runs up to me, looks and me and the dog, and proclaims, “Good luck that one is a monster!” and runs inside. 