Happy Tails

We caved. We got a dog. Two years ago our dog, Molly died and we didn't want another dog. Although we all missed the presence of a dog not having one gave us a lot of freedom. Also our children are older, one in college the other finishing high school and I work part time. We reasoned it wasn't fair to leave a dog alone most of the day.

But we would torture ourselves by cruising the Internet researching breeds and then looking at dogs on rescue sights, We'd fall in love but our sanity would return and we'd decide the time wasn't right. Our youngest accused us of being cruel.

Then enter my mother-in-law. She volunteered to babysit the dog a few days a week while I was at work and when we go away. She was serious. She requested we get a smaller dog. We were in total agreement. Portable was what we were going for.

Rescuing a dog from the pound has changed since the early eighties. I got a dog from the pound then. I filled out a brief form, plunked down a modest fee and I had myself a dog. Not so anymore. Dogs in foster homes, anyway, seem to require a vigorous screening process. Don't have a fence. Rejected. Gone for a few hours during the day. Nope. Plan to put the dog in a crate. Move on sister we ain't interested.

My husband quickly grew frustrated. It turns out you can visit some pounds, fill out a lengthy form, fork over a not so modest fee and leave with a new best friend. That's what they did a month ago. Now we have a Pomeranian mix fur ball (the kids named him Tommy) in the family.