I got the flu. It was terrible.
My children went over to play at a friend’s house. There, they met a dog named Stella. And one thing led to another, and now we have adopted Stella.
Except now her name is Reilly. Because I can’t imagine spending the next 12 or so years screaming “STELLA” across dog parks.
She needed a home; we had one. So, what could go wrong?
1. I am a divorced (or single) mom who works full-time (well, sort of full-time), and I already can’t do it all. I spend some night too overwhelmed to do a load of a laundry, and so tired that I start nodding off during dinner.
2. I have never had a dog. My children have never had a dog. We don’t know the first things about dogs.
3. I am a neat freak who shudders at dog hair and dog messes and dog hair.
4. Exactly one week before taking Reilly, I ordered new furniture – all mine, all new, for the first time in my life, perhaps. And most of it is white.
5. After living across the street from a city dog park for ten years, I don’t like a lot of dog owners. They are odd and combative. In fact, I’m not even sure if I like dogs. A terrible thing to say, I know, and sacrilegious to some dog lovers. But honest.
6. Paying for my dog walker might just involve giving up some of my favorite things: my daily venti skim latte, Uber, and wine.
So, why a dog?
It comes down my son, ten years old, who said:
Mom, we need to take Stella, because she’s a rescue, and she’s been through so much. We “had” the divorce, and we went through so much. So we all belong together. We need to take her.
So now we have a little rescue beagle. She’s very smart and very sweet. But she likes to run away, following her nose, and already a dog walker has labelled her “incorrigible.” And that was before Reilly ran through the dog walker’s legs and out the front door to escape.
Let’s see how this all goes.