last five entries

host - email - older- newest - profile - notes

the English

2013-08-26 - 6:56 p.m.

A few months ago I got it into my head that we needed a third dog. I felt kind of bad because my husband hasn�t been into the idea at all (like not even a little). We actually went to see a dog whose owner was giving him away after seven years because she was moving in with her intolerant boyfriend, who wouldn�t allow him to live there. He was a cute dog, and from his picture I thought he looked neglected and kind of fat, like many Americans.

His name was Buddy and although they mentioned having a doghouse for him, in his pictures he was laying on the flattened out cardboard boxes that the doghouse came in. Not acceptable. I knew we could give him a preferable life, and maybe get him in better physical shape, at the very least.

We brought our two dogs to meet him at a park nearby which I could feel in my gut was not going to go well, I�m not really sure why. It could�ve been because before we left, my husband said something to the effect of �That�s fine, but remember you�re on your own with him.�

The dog was really sweet, but our dogs ignored him completely, like he was the lowest character of their caste system. I went over to pet him, and he cried for his mother, whose name was Josefina. She assured me he would be a great pet for us, and pushed his little pillow toward me. After he mounted both our dogs and they attacked him in return, I got the sinking feeling he wasn�t going to be part of our family.

When I looked to my husband for possible feedback, he was standing off to the side of some tree with his arms crossed, looking the other way. I was totally alone with the girl and her boyfriend. She had shown up with all Buddy�s vet papers and food, and was trying to convince us to take him home. I tried to break it to her gently that he wasn�t going to be a fit for anyone in my family but me, but she didn�t seem to want to hear me. When I consulted with my husband, he shrugged and said something ominous, like

�Do what you want.�

Then he turned back toward his tree.

�I�m really sorry, Josefina! He�s really adorable, but our dogs just don�t seem to like him.�

�But some dogs just take time, and they�ll get used to him, right?�

�No, listen to me - he�ll be dead by morning.�

�Well he�s gonna have to go to the pound then. Because I�m moving tomorrow!�

And then she started bawling. So I started bawling. Her boyfriend scowled at me and put his arm around her, as if to protect her from me. Hey pal, who�s effing fault was it that Josefina became a codependent tool? Buddy�s fault? All he did to deserve this was be born, maybe eat too much and unknowingly smile for some stupid pictures that his mother took to try to get him adopted by someone else.

I said goodbye to Buddy and swore to myself I would never torture other dog like this again. I told Josefina to take him to the Humane Society, because at least they wouldn�t kill him there.

As we drove home and I cried the entire way, my husband tried to console me by telling me it just wasn�t the right dog, and not to worry. Easy for him to say, because to him, no dog was the right one. But I had little Buddy on my conscience. And how nice of me to give him hope, only to let him be tried and possibly convicted of being too fat for anyone else visiting the pound to want to adopt. I tried to text Josefina to see where he ended up, but she wouldn�t text me back. I tried again later but she iced me out completely. I hate Josefina.

The other dog we went to see was Brutus who was a 3 month old pug. His owner said that he was well behaved and wanted $300 for him, which I knew was a little inflated, because he wasn�t even a purebred, and it was obvious the guy was desperate to let him go. When we got to the house, and the guy opened the gate, the dog dove for us like he had a land mine under him. Within 10 minutes time, he tried to burrow into my lap, ran around the yard like a drugged out maniac and attempted to impregnate a tree stump five times. Then I couldn�t unstick him from my shirt no matter what I did.

�Alone much?� I said.

�Yeah, he used to stay inside with me but he�s too energetic for my two year old son. Really good dog.�

�Nice meeting you,� we said.

Later he texted me.

�Ok, I�ll take 200.�

****

Last week, I finished work early and my husband happened to be off that day, and for some reason he was looking at puppies on his computer. I knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I showed him the picture of a white English bulldog puppy who needed to be adopted right now. He was a purebred and my husband seemed to think he was really cute, and somehow I convinced him to call the owner. The puppy was about 40 miles away, somewhere near Disneyland and it was 100 degrees outside. But we went anyway.

When we got to the house, the guy�s brother answered the door. Apparently he had no idea she was going to be adopted anytime soon, or why we were there, asking to see their puppy. When we met her, she was in the backyard in a pen with another bulldog. They told us she lived outside because she snored, but at least there was a covering for her to sleep under. Her owner told us that he was too busy working to give her enough time and attention, so she was alone much of the time. She ran out to me and climbed on my lap and kissed me. Once my husband picked her up, I knew we would be taking her home. We let the family say goodbye to her and put her in our car. She was sat on my lap like a good little angel the entire way back.

She snores, she looks like a marshmallow dumpling and I haven�t had sleep in a week, but she�s perfect. Secretly, I know my husband thinks so too. She�s happy and safe, and she�ll have everything she could ever need. She sleeps inside and has two big siblings, who will grow to love her too, once one of them stops growling at her. And I love her like I gave birth to her myself.

previous - next