For those advanced mathematicians out there, it will come as not surprise that we are coming up to our one-year suburban anniversary. Like all anniversaries, this one is allowing us to take stock and plan for the future. I, for one, would like peacock colored sheets and drapes, and possibly some form of ottoman cum table for the living room; the latter is on devoted partner's list as well. But Matt, of excellent frienddom and New Jersey Beer Company, has yet again insinuated his canine companions into my heart in a way that has it pitter pattering in ways most annoying to, for example, devoted partner-types.
When we moved in to the house, we knew there was a no pet policy. Now that we've been here a year and have, I think, demonstrated what upstanding responsible adults we are, I think there might be some wiggle room. So we're going to ask. I give us about a 40% chance of success in getting our landlady to agree and then a 50% chance of agreeing to have and properly selecting our first dog. So, mathpeople, that's an overall 20%. Devoted partner would probably like me to take this opportunity to point out that this is real math, not Yelena math. In Yelena math world that number would represent the total percentage of n puppies I would adopt - also known as 1 in 5 puppies. But here we're talking about real math.
Also in the no-surprises-here category is the fact that I have already commenced puppy browsing. After always getting all misty-eyed about a puppy, our last trip to the North Shore Animal League got me seriously thinking about adopting a dog, not a puppy. First of all, the tugging-at-heartstrings factor is strong with me. The puppies are easy to find homes for, not so the dogs. Also, with luck, we could find an adult dog that was surrendered to a shelter by a family who moved or couldn't take care of him as opposed to one found on the highway gnawing at the carcass of a rusted out Volvo. Yes, we want a big dog, but I'm becoming more amenable to medium-sized dogs as well. Witness my finds and share you preferences! (And if you are Matt, this is not an invitation for YOU to adopt more dogs. Unless they are brewmasters.)
In the medium-sized dog category we have the always beautiful doberman. I really like the brown ones and I like them with their natural ears. Devoted partner disagrees. I'd have to find out more about what kind of growth was removed from Raven's back since we're not really looking to adopt a dog whose health problems will bankrupt us. Also, Raven is a mad stupid name. We'd be changing that immediately.
I don't know what this thing is, regardless of the site telling me it MIGHT be a mastiff/viszla. I do know that the vacant look on his face is very very appealing. He seems ready to unconditionally love me and please me and, frankly, I chose a smart devoted partner; do I really need a smart dog?
Francois (name acceptance pending) has that "who's a good boy" thing going for him. I think he would enjoy playing stick, frisbee, tennis ball, and other exciting games of that ilk. I think he could also be convinced into trying some of those games in conjunction with lake. But, as with pretty much any pit, I'd want to hang out with him for a while before making any decision.
Now for some larger dogs. This dog, whose name will also be changed as I would no sooner name a big red dog Clifford than I would name a chocolate labrador Hershey, is completely different from the type of dog I usually go for. He's leaner through the chest and shoulders, seems relaxed and not interested in eating my neighbors, and doesn't really have that badass gene. Still, something about him was immediately fascinating to me. He screamed out, "I'd be a really easy first dog to have." And I have to agree with him.
Now the rottweiler has always held an infinitely special place in my heart. I simply love them and they match all of my clothing. I think I would look tremendously sexy walking a rottweiler and also tremendously intimidating. Gracie could keep her name. Gracie is a great name for a rottweiler. Now she doesn't have the super-intimidating look that I always imagined of my rottweiler, but I still think she and I will be able to achieve the proper look with some practice.
Finally, while I didn't find a neo, I did find a bordeaux (who, continuing the list of names I wouldn't give dogs, would not be named anything dumbass like Lafite, Petrus, or Haut-Brion). She's a girl, which I like, and also her smooshie face is pretty darn perfect. She beat out Barney, the mastiff mix, as the representative mastiff of the bunch. I'd pretty much pick her up this afternoon and then spend the rest of her life preventing myself from over-buying her pink, non-sweater, accessories.
These are my pretend-adoptable dogs for the week. I'm actually quite curious which of them you like. And I guess we'll try to talk to our landlady this week or the next to gauge her reaction to our becoming dog owners. Then the only difficult talks we'll be having will be with one another.
1 week ago