Thursday, May 6, 2010
So I'm fostering a puppy...an adorable little 6 week old puppy. His name is Jack. I originally wasn't going to name him but I couldn't just keep calling him puppy. I'm trying not to get attached but it's hard. He's cute. Like all other puppies out there...he has that sweet little smell and a head that just begs for kisses.
Yes in a matter of two days little Jack has turned my world upside down. George, my cat, is not happy. There have been a few little piddles on the wood floors and one on the bed, and it's been quite amusing to watch the little guy toddle around on the hardwoods. By the way....he doesn't appreciate my beautifully polished hardwood floors that I work so hard to keep clean.
Other than dog sitting, which I do for several of my friends, this is the first time I've had a dog in my home on a regular basis for quite some time. I've been contemplating getting a dog for a few years now but I didn't really know if I was ready to take that step. Dogs are a big responsibility, they require walking, training, lots of attention and the like. I'm a very busy girl. I'm constantly on the go and George fits my lifestyle.
But deep in my heart I know that's not what's been keeping me from getting a dog. You see I used to have a dog. I had a precious little Yorkie named Bella. She was my little angel and my baby. I took her with me everywhere. She was my companion and my life mate. We were like two peas in a pod.
I still remember picking her out at the breeders and falling in love with her sweet little face. I remember reading everything I could about dogs and about Yorkies before I even brought Bella home so I'd be prepared. Just like a new parent, I puppy proofed my house, broke the bank buying supplies for her and vowed to do everything right.
Our first day together she slept in my lap and I lovingly watched her little belly move up and down as she napped. I was in love. I cooked her fresh chicken and rice for meals and we excelled at puppy obedience class...she was a star pupil.
My favorite time with her was when we would lay together watching TV and she would curl up on my chest and I would rest my chin on her back. At night she would ball up under the covers, always making sure some part of her was touching me - a tiny, little warm bundle of love. And every day when I came home from work she would be there in her pen, tail wagging, waiting for me...so happy I was home.
But two years ago, when I was moving to my new apartment, she got out during the move and her disappearance wasn't discovered until hours later. A part of me died that day. My heart just sank and then I went into survivor mode. I put up flyers in my old neighborhood, put ads in the paper, called shelters and cried for days. It was all to no avail. Bella didn't come home.
After that I just didn't know if I could ever get a dog again. I resigned myself to the fact that maybe I just wasn't a dog person after all. That maybe it was just supposed to be me and George. That was until this week when I was asked to foster a puppy.
Now I'm house training and cuddling and "good boying" this adorable, cow colored, little mutt who just needs a good dose of love. I really don't know what I'm going to do in two weeks when I have to give him up. Maybe, just maybe I'll be ready to get a little puppy of my own.
By the way you can follow Jacks adventures on twitter @pupjack