Doggy in the Window

Aside from birthdays, in-laws, and cake, the main topic of conversation at our house for the last few weeks has been about one thing only: a dog.

We actually promised the kids a pooch two years ago when we moved to Connecticut. Sitting in the kitchen in L.A., it seemed like a harmless pledge. We were talking Connecticut, after all. If you couldn't have a dog in Connecticut, which was nothing but country lanes, huge backyards, and beaches on the Sound, where could you? Once we got here and started thinking about it seriously, we reassessed the enormity of the commitment. Somehow, in the midst of all the transition and newness of everything, the kids seemed to forget about the theoretical doggy, or at least put it on simmer.

A few times the subject came up and QB, our absurdly responsible kid, would say things like, "I'm not sure we're ready to take care of a dog. Maybe when I'm eight."

Well, he's eight now, and the Dog Issue has reared it's head again, this time with Mopsy leading the charge. (Come to think of it, she started to get obsessed with dogs right around the time I rented that St. Bernard Beethoven movie that she went on to watch 50 times. Pisser. This could all be due to a careless Blockbuster selection....) We dodged it effectively for a while but eventually, with Mopsy's insistent pestering, she wore us down. "Can we get a dog today?" was usually the first thing she said in the morning. "Can we get a dog tomorrow?" was usually the last thing she said at night. After all, we had promised. 

Thus, we embarked upon our search for a dog. We pretty quickly settled on the breed: golden retriever. Jarvis and I had both had a goldens growing up. We knew what to expect with a retriever and felt like we could handle one. My friend, Molly, who has her own rescue group in L.A., had drummed it into my head to never, ever buy a dog from a store or a breeder. We knew we wanted to go the rescue route. I believe in that philosophy wholeheartedly and abhor the puppy mill industry.

But rescuing turned out to be not so simple. Next time I'll tell you why we've have since been rejected by scads of rescue organizations and why I now understand why people give up on adopting and go to a breeder or even, as last resort, the closest puppy store. (Sorry, Molly.....)