Within thirty seconds, Reggie was crying so hard any actual sea monsters in the area were scared away.
TO MYrelief, when I called the landlord, pets were allowed with a hefty pet deposit. Not a big deal. Coverable with a few massages or another photo shoot. And as much as I didn’t want a dog, I had to admit I started to have fun shopping for all the supplies. Who knew there were so many fashion and design aesthetics available for dogs? The matching food dish, water bowl, and corresponding mat to place beneath them were nicer than the place setting I used on my table. I had the dog’s bed, TV cushion, and kennel set up in the apartment before I realized I wasn’t sure what kind of dog I was getting and what size of things I actually needed.
Well, whatever. I took pictures of the purchases with my cell and would simply pick out a dog that would fit.
I WONDEREDif my mother had come by to see the Seattle Humane Society before she decided to make them her charity of the season. I was certain she hadn’t. And if she had, she’d done no more than drive by without stopping.
The building was little more than a one-level, whitewashed, cinderblock structure that sported white siding on the front, with two vertical stripes of thin rock I supposed were meant to look like columns. Not a place my mother would ever step inside. Whether or not my mother might think herself too good to enter places such as this, it looked like it could certainly use the money she would raise.
I paused at the glass doors before walking in. I had seen a cute hamster at the pet store when I bought the dog supplies. It wasn’t too late. Maybe I could get him, name him Dog, and Bailey would be satisfied.
Picturing the joy in her eyes the night before as I promised to get an actual dog, I pushed open the doors and stepped inside.
Nope. Mother definitely wouldn’t come here. It looked like a small warehouse filled with animal products. Giving the space a quick scan, I noticed the dog bed I’d purchased earlier. It was a lot less appealing when smashed between a couple of tackier options.
Maybe my mother wasn’t the only one with snooty tastes.
A young woman emerged from a back room and walked behind the counter before glancing up and giving a little jump as she noticed me. “Oh. Sorry. You startled me. I didn’t hear the chime of you walking in. Sorry. May I help you with anything?”
I walked across the room, closing the distance between us. “Yes, actually. I’m here to adopt a dog.”
She beamed. “Oh, wonderful! Which one were you interested in?”
“Um. I don’t know. I haven’t been here before.”
“You didn’t look at our selection online?”
I shook my head. Already failing at the doggy daddyhood.
The girl’s smile never faltered. “No matter. I can take you back and introduce you to the pups we have.”
“Oh, I don’t want a puppy. An adult, please. One that’s housebroken. And can take itself out on walks.”
Her smile slipped. “Ah….”
“I was kidding about that last part. I know I won’t get a dog that can walk itself, but if you have one that picks up its own poop bag, that would be great.”
“Well, we don’t have puppies in our facility right now, so that’s good. And while there are some who we believe are housetrained, I can’t promise that there won’t be accidents. Moving into a new home can be stressful.”
Okay, then. Either she was very serious, or I wasn’t as funny as I thought. “Well, I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
“Good. Do you have your paperwork with you?”
“Paperwork?”Here we go again.
“Yes. There’s a questionnaire online to help us determine which dog might best fit your lifestyle, and an application that needs to be filled out.”
“Oh.” Yep. Failing. Totally failing. Good thing I wasn’t planning to go the whole kid route. “Didn’t look online. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She looked at me quizzically. “How long have you been considering getting a dog?”
I was nearly honest but then stopped myself. Admitting the thought hadn’t crossed my mind even twenty-four hours before probably wouldn’t help the adoption process. Look at me figuring out this doggy daddyhood thing. “Oh, for a long time. I’ve been waiting until everything fell into place.”
Though young, she wasn’t as naive as she looked. With a crease between her brows, she handed me some papers from under the desk, followed by a pen and clipboard. “If you’ll fill these out over there”—she motioned to a row of chairs over by the front door—“I’ll go over them and then take you back to meet the dogs if we have any that might be appropriate for you.”
Taking my spot on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, I started in on the forms. She wasn’t kidding. There was a lot of paperwork. I felt like I was buying a car. At least with a car, you didn’t run the risk of getting told no. You got the one you wanted. This was sort of like filling out an online dating profile. All types of opportunities for rejection.
How many hours a day will the dog be home alone?
