Like surf racing toward sandy shores, I’m beginning to believe that puppies come in waves. Along with Indy (star of yesterday’s post), puppies are busting out all over around here. Yes, I know it’s sort of puppy season, but this year it feels like nearly everyone I know is getting a new pup. This set of dogs will grow up together, train together, compete together, and the pull to ride this wave is strong. Yet, at our house, we’ve always had a solid 2-dog limit.
As one of my newspaper editors is fond of saying, “Anything over 2 is one past crazy.”
Here’s our thinking. Two is what I can handle in the house, especially since I work at home. Two means one for me, one for Tom. Two — considering the medical dramas my dogs tend to attract — is what I can afford.
I totally get my friends’ view of my diminishing returns. The chance of a huge turnaround in Lilly is slim. And, yet, retiring her sans career and simply starting over with a new teammate feels like a form of infidelity.
Plus, I volunteered too long at an animal shelter to think of adding a dog as a solution to any problem — behavioral or otherwise.
With Ginko now at 7, and Lilly at 3, it’ll be a long while before it’s time to get another dog.
(Wait a sec, while I knock on wood, throw salt, and all that.)
So, this summer, picture me floating on my surfboard while others catch this wave. Like the rising sun and setting moon, surely the tide will rise when it’s my time. Until then, I’ll live vicariously through the achievements of this year’s class of new pups.
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