Dog Adoption Days

Well, after hemming and hawing and begging and pawing about it for a couple years, we finally made the decision to dive into the dog world again.

Let me rephrase that... For many months, my wife had been toying with the idea of getting a guinea pig. I shrugged, whatever, you go, girl. I figured, c'mon, it's not gonna be any more fun than a fish, but it that floats your boat, then be my guest. And how fun are fish? Every once in a while you bang on the fish bowl to try and get some kinda attention until they end belly up on top of the water (I should know...I'm a *gulp* serial fish killer).

Then my wife hits me one night with, "You know... The more I've been looking into getting a guinea pig, the more work it seems. So I started thinking maybe it's time for us to get another dog."

Jaw drop! Carpet yanked out: Ka-whoosh, thump! Eyes bulged like a lecherous cartoon dog! And, of course, AOOOO-GAH!

After the demise of our last, great dog, I just didn't want to go through the heartache again. Then I said, "Well, that came outta nowhere. But what kind of dog had you been thinking about?"

She whipped out her iPad, pulled up a photo, thrust it in front of my face.

"I'm in," I said. Didn't take long. Problem was, the more I scrolled through the adoption pages, the more I wanted every dog. "Okay, you're gonna have to run the search. Otherwise, I'd have a houseful of dogs and become the 'crazy dog guy.'"

So she did.

Now, I'm not sure if any of you have been through this process lately, but man, it's changed. Gone are the days when you stroll into a kennel, point at the first dog that licks you, and say, "Gimme."

Nope. These days, you have to jump through hoops, bark, roll over, and play stressed out. It's a more intensive procedure than getting Pentagon clearance. We went through interviews, dog meet and greets, home visits, inspections, reference checks, finger prints, lie detector tests, water-boarding...

We also went through many, many close calls. We lost a lotta Waylons, Dashes, and Bruce Waynes along the way. Every time we'd get our hearts set on a dog, someone else snuck in before us. One such dog had over a hundred applicants. Of course there were page after page after page of either Pit Bulls (we'd already gone that route; Zak was the best dog ever, but a lot of high energy) or Chihuahuas (no thanks, mean little yippy things).

Where'd all the dogs go?

Since Covid, there's been a dog shortage. Something I never thought I'd see. But the competition is fierce out there.

But, hey, perseverance finally paid off! My wife found a very pretty dog, a Whippet mix. Only Whippet I'd ever heard of was a new wave song from the '80's, but this dog was much more adorable than Devo. Three years old, good natured, with gorgeous coloring and golden eyes. Than we found out she was part of a package deal. The other dog was an eleven-year-old Lhasa Apso.

Uh-oh. Clang-a-lang-dang! Ka-Booooooom! And again, AOOO-GAH!

Not an ideal situation, the dogs were "bonded," and we couldn't have one without the other. Again, a sucker for sad, doggy eyes, I took a look at the gruff and scrappy Loomis, and said, okay, let's grab 'em!

Success! I think. After being with us for a week or so, Bijou (the Whippet) has skin issues; Mister Loomis (my wife added 'Mister' to his name befitting the dignity of someone his age) has teeth problems. I'm probably gonna have to take 'em to doggy therapy pretty soon for mental issues. Or something else equally as crazy.

Man, these guys are expensive.

 But they're worth it, settling in quite nicely. It's odd when you adopt dogs, their personalities are already intact. Bijou's loving, bright, playful, but very demanding. Mister Loomis is a grumpy, lil' old man, perfect for my needs. When Bijou wants to play, Mister Loomis pretty much slams her down and gets vicious. (Frankly, I'm not sure why Bijou loves her older bro so much). But, hey, they are each others' dogs.

And, we, the humans, are their people.

Speaking of things going to the dogs, as a writer, I have absolutely no shame. Don't believe me? The proof is in the first book in the Zach and Zora comical murder mystery series, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock. It's the only series featuring an idiotic male stripper and his always irritable and usually pregnant sleuth sister. Ask for it by name! G'wan, I dare ya!