Funny Face

It's not my fault.

A friend posted his picture on the social networking site and my heart skipped a beat.  Sensing the danger, I went immediately off line and crawled into bed, lulling myself to sleep with all the reasons that I'd be certifiable for taking in a third dog. To my dismay, the image crept creeping into my consciousness.  Sleep didn't come and I found myself repeatedly waking and signing back on line - Yep, still there.  Still precious.  Still needing a home.  Each and every time.  By morning, it was clear to me that the battle was in its final stage - by then I was pretty sure I was on the losing side - the decision had been made the moment I saw that face, I realized, no amount of reason was going to prevail.  The following day I filled out the adoption application, called my vet to instruct her to release my records ( and ask that she not tell the adoption agency that I was completely nuts ), stopped at the pet store for a new food dish, a collar and a lead.  I didn't break the news to the five cats and two dogs already in residence.  Everybody likes surprises, I told myself.


We met later that evening and any lingering doubt vanished the second I set eyes on him - small, wirehaired and dappled, his low to the ground thin frame and hopeful face took my heart at first sight and I for a moment I thought I would cry - but then he gave me a gentle, welcoming kiss and crawled into my arms and a feeling of rightness flooded through me.  

He slept most of the way home, curled up in the passenger seat nose to tail, while I planned our grand entrance.  I was prepared for some resistance but counting on his small size to reassure the family that he was no threat.  I also thought that his being non-confrontational worked in out favor - no soap opera dog, this one - at the first sign of drama, I sensed that he would walk (but not run) away.  And that was exactly how it happened.  The small brown dog went from curious to completely accepting in a matter of minutes, the cats patted him down and basically shrugged him off, clearly indicating he wasn't worth their time or attention.  Only the black dog showed any sign of hostility - showing her teeth when he got too close but after a few hours even she realized he was harmless.  At one point when she gave him a warning growl, he sat down and cocked his head in puzzlement, then without giving so much as an inch, laid his head on his short, stubby little paws and just looked at her.  I could almost see the wheels turning as she tried to decipher this body language and determine how to react and I confess, a part of me enjoyed her bewilderment. 


Over the next day or so, we sort things out, summarize house rules, set up the logistics of who sleeps and eats where and when, and review the one immutable household law:
                                   LITTER BOXES ARE OFF LIMITS
                                   TO ALL NON CAT PERSONNEL


It's another mouth to feed, a higher vet bill, less space in the bed.  More watchfulness will be required and my stress level is likely to rise.


It's also the best decision I've made in a long while.