Sit, Boo Boo, Sit!

After much persuading, and countless numbers of 2x4-like subtle hints, the dude gave in this past week and said that indeed yes, we could get a dog. (Hear my like-minded angels rejoice.) Yep, I'm going to christen my brand new home with a brand new dog. My intelligence and foresight astound me. At this point we are hoping to get a rat terrier (oh, I hear your groans and amen to them). If you knew the dude and could read a description of the dog, you would realize they are a match made in heaven. Doggie heaven. So this summer I will be spending my vacation not with a stack of books and a perfectly groomed garden as I had hoped, but hoovering and "NO!"ing and rushing to let the dog out in time and loving most minutes of it. And then if that experiment on my sanity is a success we will shortly thereafter (2months to 10 years) get a second dog (my choice of breed this time) so they are happier while the dude and I go out and make the dough necessary for all their chew toys and vet bills. Why are we going with a pure breed (or partially mixed breed) you may ask? Yes, I do believe that it's better to adopt a dog and get it out of the over crowded shelter. Yes, I do love dogs who's breed is more mixed than my thoughts after a long day of work. The answer to my snobbery is simple. Allergies. Some of my nearest and dearest are allergic to doggies. So to fill my life-long longing for a dog and yet not make my bfs and others avoid my home like the plague, we are going for a "pure" bred dog.

Start thinking of suggestions for names. Although, let's be honest, I probably won't listen to them, just like the dude won't listen to mine. We are a thoroughly original family. Our goldfish's name is Fish, Fishie if the dude is talking to it, which he does amazingly often. I'm sure the dude would have named it a completely incredible name, but by the time the first 3 died (we started out with 5) he was too depressed to think of anything. He didn't want to get too attached. Bless his tender heart. It is one of his true gifts and talents.

I could write a book on our experiences with Fish. Like how we adopted he and his ill-fated compatriots to save them from flushing after they lived in an art piece for a day. (No, the artist did not want to flush them, she just didn't know what to do with them.) Or how we didn't have anyone take care of him while we were gone on Christmas Vacation. We just fed him a lot and hoped for the best for the week ahead. (here I guiltily hang my head in shame, and admit that just an ever so tiny bit of me hoped that Fish would go to the happy swimming ground while we were gone. A thought that I have almost completely repented of.) What did we find when we came back? A bigger Fish than when we left, the little piggy! The dude had a long chat with him after that. Letting him know we were sorry we had abandoned him.

I wonder how Fish and the dog will like each other. Hmm... (distant rumblings of foreboding cloud my mind.)