Thursday, July 15, 2010

when you find yourself in the thick of it, help yourself to a bit of what is all around you

I was thinking . . . we don't really have enough animals around here. I mean, we've got, what, four species, max? Gallus gallus domesticus, Felis catus, Capra aegagrus hircus, Homo sapiens . . . boooooring.

Once upon a time, long ago when we still lived in Lehi, I promised Captain America that we could get a dog when we moved to a farm. It was a good way to stanch the flow of begging and defer the decision to an unspecified and therefore unthreatening date in the future. But then we moved here and got the goats and the land and the aged house, and I realized that the idea of caring for a dog scared me to death. The feeding! The grooming! The exercising! The smell! The poop, oh, the poop! See, I'm a cat person, and I'll tell you right now that a large portion of my affection is due to the poop burial. That's decent of them, and I like it. I also like that cats aren't clingy and glommy. So I told Captain America that we can't get a dog until we have a fence.

But then recently our friends got a puppy--thanks a lot, McAllisters!--and the begging has begun anew. It doesn't help when we read things like Old Yeller and Where the Red Fern Grows. And sometimes I get the fever for a new furry soul-crushing responsibility, so we've started looking around. It can't be that much worse than goats or children, can it? Can it? I think what we'll do is try an experiment--dog fostering! I talked to a lady from some dog-rescue organization today, and that's what she recommends before any adoption. Kacy of Every Day I Write the Book did it, and she ended up with a dog that she only usually regrets owning, and that is a ringing endorsement. What I like about this arrangement is that it will be a less-committal way for Captain America to find out just how terrible it is to have a smelly, hairy ball and chain pooping and whining and barking and generally making his life miserable. Then maybe he'll leave me alone (he never asks John--he knows I'm the weak one re: more animals). And if we decide we don't hate it as much as we thought, we can adopt! It would be nice to have another excuse not to clean the house and do yard work . . .

By the way, anybody who can tell me why my post title is especially apt today will get a prize.


Jill said...

Make sure you don't jugde based on the first foster dog you get. You might need to try out a few before the right one comes along...(not that I am a good person to give advice on

Jill said...

oh, and just a guess on your title...I am assuming it's from some Beatles song. I am figuring that the concert is still fresh on your mind. :-) Plus, it sounds like something they would sing.

kacy faulconer said...

If dog fostering has taught me anything it has taught me to truly hate dogs. Best of luck.