I get things done by focusing on one task at a time. As you know I’ve recently fixated on Cooper’s departure and as a result, concentration on Midlana has suffered and today was no different. Yesterday we visited several animal shelters, finding – not unexpectedly – that impressions gleaned from a website are often quite different than when meeting a dog in person.
Today we visited another county shelter, arriving with a short list of dogs we were interested in based solely upon their web picture. The ones I really liked (the appearance of) turned out to be a real handful – kind of like dating a beautiful Hollywood starlet who’s a head-case, I’d imagine. Many of the young Terriers were (reminding us of Cooper as a puppy) something like miniature Arnold Schwarzenegger piranhas, or maybe like playing with a thorn-covered medicine ball. My wife said, “you don’t need another chainsaw.” As beautiful as the young dogs are we realized we just don’t want to deal with the whole puppy thing at this time – maybe it’s because I’m a decade older. It works out well for everyone since puppies are adopted fastest, followed by young dogs, and lastly, seniors.
Older dogs especially, are of course far more calm. This shows my own hangup, that after going through what we did, we just can’t bring ourselves to get a senior dog that… how do I say it… may not have many days. I hate writing off a dog (or anyone for that matter) based upon age, but I also can’t ignore the impact losing my best buddy made on me – I’m just not ready to have it happen again anytime soon. (I realize nothing’s guaranteed; health issues can cut a young dog’s life short, too, but you get the idea.)
Another variable is color; regardless of breed, dark colored dogs aren’t adopted nearly as fast as lighter ones and it’s just how people are. We were guilty of this, too, and only looked at lighter-colored dogs.
Anyhow, after looking at them we didn’t find any compatible kids and headed back to the truck. We were just getting in when the girl who let us spend time with the dogs came by walking another dog. She asked what we thought of Piranha Boy (having probably guessed since we were leaving empty-handed.) I thanked her for her time and said that while he’ll make some family very happy he was just a bit much for us. Then she said, “Oh by the way, there’s another dog that’s really calm yet not too old, did you meet him?” No… so back we went.
So she gets him out and we meet him, a nearly all black one-year old Terrier mix that was surprisingly calm, acting more like a four-year old than a puppy. We’d walked right by his cage earlier because… well… because he didn’t fit our myopic view of what’s attractive. However, instead of jumping all around, ignoring us, or trying to figure out how to dig out of the concrete enclosure like the other ones, he was happy for the company, quietly chew on his squeeky-toy while laying next to us. Uh oh, he’s getting under my skin.
The saying is right, you go to the pound to adopt a dog, but the reality is that it’s not up to you, the dog adopts you. He’ll come home tomorrow, right after being relieved of his manhood… By the way, yesterday, one of the dogs decided – several times – that I’d make a wonderful mother to his children. “Let… go, get… off… of my leg!” Anyhow, so now there’s the question: what do we name him? “Turbo?”… eh, no. “Pinion?”… no. “Midi?”, as in “mid-engine”, maybe. Regardless, you’ll be seeing a lot more car updates now that the dog trauma is passing.