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?
Let’s see.
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.
holesinthefence 