Tuesday, March 4, 2014

A Lower Rung on the Ladder of Success

You know that cliche in every show where the young teenage girl insists on doing something dangerous, stating that she fully understands the risks and can absolutely handle them with no problem, only to immediately regret the decision minutes upon doing it?

I would describe that as my short experience as a dog owner.  After months of saying on this here blog that I was going to adopt a dog, said dog was brought to my house on Sunday afternoon.  A little over 48 hours later, the same dog will be removed by my dog by the rescue agency tasked with finding her a home.  So at this point in the story, I know you're wondering what happened.  You're trying to continue to hold me in high regard by asking what disastrous behaviors the dog exhibited that made me rush to return her.  Aggressive?  Hardly.  Super mellow dog.  Kept me up all night barking?  Nope.  Not a single bark from this one.  Destructive?  Again no...she just liked chewing on her toys a bit and laying on the couch.  Shy bladder?  I'll let you know when I get home at 4:30 today to find out if she's desecrated her crate.

So what was the earth shattering, life threatening reason behind my shunning of this quiet, sweet beast?  Basically she's too big, she sheds everywhere and she needs more training.  All qualities I myself possess, but in the end, if i'm going to have a roommate that has those flaws, I guess I'd want them to be able to talk and maybe cook meals sometimes.

Now that your image of me has shattered like a million shards of glass, let me at least try and pick up some of the pieces.  I don't think this decision was rash.  I think my blind acceptance of this dog was rash, especially since those same traits that I'm rejecting were known to me before I officially adopted her.  And before you cast judgment, know that she's going back to her foster mom, who had set up a heated, air conditioned, palacial outdoor kennel, complete with laminate floors and multiple rooms.  Oh and misses her tremendously.  It's a much better deal than spending 5 hours out of a 24 hour day outside her crate, don't you think?  The truth is, this experience has taught me that I just don't want a dog.  I want TV.  That is my pet.  She needs a monthly cleaning, and storms seem to scare her sometimes, but basically she's a good companion. 

Now that you're all organizing to lynch me for my lifestyle, I will distract you with youtube videos of good life hacks told by a strange Russian.  It's....mesmerizing.

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