So yesterday I told you about how I’d selflessly, saintishly given up my dibs on an abandoned dog named Pookie for a buddy who’s been pining for a tail-wagger since his Cocker Spaniel died last year. I felt really good about surrendering the Pookmeister…until I got home to our dog-less house.
“Why did you give him to Gunter?” the Hubbins asked. (After hearing about Pookie’s hobby—peeing in every corner of his foster mother’s house—he’d totally been with me on this plan.) “Why didn’t we take him? Why?”
“Because,” I said, cutting to the chase, “I’m an idiot.”
“Look how proud he stands,” the Hubbins lamented as he gazed at a Facebook shot of now-Gunter’s dog. Then he started searching through hundreds of photos on petfinder.com with an air of desperation that rivaled a single woman’s V-Day quest on match.com.
Mom to the rescue. “I found her!” she said on her fifth call of the day to me. (We talk a lot. We’re very close. Some might say co-dependent. In fact, we say it.) “Check your email!” And Mom was right: She’d found the perfect dog for us, a little mutt who gets along with cats and doesn’t bark too much. She also happens to be even prettier (blasphemy!) than our beloved neighbor dog Isabel. So gorgeous, in fact, that I dare not show her photo here lest all of you flood her foster mommy with adoption applications of your own. Yes, she’s that cute.
I emailed about her immediately. The next day, I found the application for adoption on the animal rescue website, filled it out, and sent it. Later that day, I tracked down the number of the dog’s foster mommy and called and left a message. The next step is probably a restraining order against me, so I will back off. Until later, when I try calling again.
Yes, I’m a little obsessed about this dog. I’m hoping that she’s the dog for us, and I’m trying really hard not to treat Whoever Runs Things like Santa Claus (“God, I want this dog…oh right, please”) or use emotional blackmail (“God, if you give me this dog, I’ll be good”) because, in my experience, WRT does not find that cool at all.
However, Mom, embodying The Secret even though she never read it and is not a life coach, has encouraged me to “Put all your energy into this dog. Don’t keep looking for other dogs; send the Universe a message that you want this dog. “(By the way, the Universe is on Facebook, so I can literally send a message to the Universe!)
Will I get this dog that I am so in love with I could claw my own face off for lack of having her right now? Will the Universe hear my plea? Will the pup’s foster mommy have the authorities inform me that I am harassing her and politely insist that I stop or face serious consequences? What should I do? Any advice would be greatly appreciated. In other words, yes, this is a pathetic cry for help.