Saturday morning The Daily What posted the Puppy Easter video which I in turn posted on my site, and then on my Facebook and then also emailed to a BUNCH of people. One of which, included my husband. The video spiraled into only what can be referred to as “Puppy Fever.” And while he was in his office and I was on the porch (pretty much my office once Spring hits) we spent the rest of the morning feverishly emailing each other adorable dogs until I sent him an email titled:
“oh my god look at this cute little fat dog baby”
A few minutes later, I went into his office where he had the rescue’s website pulled up on his computer, looking at the rescue’s photos. We hung out for a bit in there, tiptoeing around our excitement, until I reminded him that the rescue had an adoption event not that far away. RIGHT NOW. Again, we passively thought about it. I was still in my pajamas and it was just before noon.
I don’t remember exactly, but I’m sure the conversation went a little like this:
Me: Do you want to go and check it out?
Him: I don’t know, do you want to go?
Me: Well, we could.
Him: Should we go?
Me: Yeah, let’s go. We don’t have anything else going on today.
And I got dressed quicker than you can say – a roomful of puppies.
When we arrived at the Fetch Delivers pet food warehouse in Northeast where the adoption event was being held, we were both nervous, I could feel it. I often tend to be the braver one, even if I have to force it or am forced into that role. But I didn’t know what to do with myself. There were cute dogs everywhere my eyes could see. I couldn’t concentrate. I wanted to say hello to every damn dog that came near me. I was just hopped up on canine excitement. And the energy in the room was electric and excited too, and yet it made me very, very self-conscious. Maybe if I was a five year old, I could get away with trying to pet and greet every dog that I passed, but I got the impression that I was coming off as a little crazy. But I couldn’t help myself, you just can’t beat even the most marginally cute dog. These are the things that bring out my self-diagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder.
Naturally, my husband let me take the lead.
I gravitated to the dogs that I knew from finding that OMG-inducing pup, her brother and her sister and her mom, rescues from Kentucky. The foster dad immediately put the mama dog in my arms and warm feelings of dog mothering came over me in waves. She was a sweet little Kentucky Woman, and yes – I did, like the complete weirdo that I am sing a little of the Neil Diamond song to that darling Pekingese/Tibetan Spaniel that brought those babies into the world. My husband was embarrassed of or for me, and the foster dad was kind enough to not lead on that I was being a crazy person, singing a song to a dog.
And then, before I knew it. The cute little fat dog baby was in my arms, and I knew for sure that Charles Schulz was right when he said that Happiness is a Warm Puppy. They gave her the name Morgan, and she was so soft and warm and adorable and way more descriptors that would take all day to effectively detail.
I would hold her for some time, in a puppy-enduced haze of happiness. Finally I put her down, then went back like five minutes later to hold her again. Then I handed her to Jeff, and she promptly licked his face and snuggled into his beard. This was the end of our lives as people without dogs.
We went and filled out the adoption application, went to see her one last time and drove off for a late breakfast, where our energy was through the roof. We both agreed on a name faster than we have ever made a decision together in the past almost four years we’ve been together.
A preview, as the little lady got her baby senior photos snapped right after we left:
(Photo stolen from Petfinder, I will totally give whomever credit for the photo should there be an issue)
And then the wait. The excruciating three day wait until the rescue called us back to do the phone interview. The rest of the day Saturday, then Sunday, Monday & most of the day on Tuesday until the phone rang before we were supposed to leave for our comedy date night. I pretty much begged the universe to let it be the rescue, and not my Grandmother, who is pretty much one of the only people that calls me on the phone at that particular time of day.
And it was. Lynn from the Rescue, not my Grandma. (Who I love so much, but would have probably broken into two if it was her, and not the rescue calling.)
I had a lovely discussion with the rep from the rescue, and I’m sure I excitedly interrupted a lot. But I learned a lot too. And they liked our application.
And we won.
I hung up. And said puppy about ten times in a row while jumping up and down like I had just won that super-huge lottery from a few weeks ago.
So I guess what I am saying is prepare for a lot of posts about our new dog when she arrives next week!
All my love,
Jen
