Because I married a caring man, I am sent inside to take off my heels while he walks the dog after work.
Because I married a caring man, I am allowed to sleep until my alarm goes off, even though he has to get ready for work as quietly as possible.
Because I married a caring man, I have a visitor for lunch on his day off. (This may also be because my building is a Pokestop, but we’ll let that pass.)
Because I married a caring man, we swerve for birds. (We are those people.)
Because I married a caring man, we’re getting another dog.
Yes. You read that right. We’re getting another dog. I will admit I have not been on board with this over the past week, but this is me making an honest effort to get on the puppy train.
Yes! A puppy! We’re getting a puppy. Her name is Lucy (I named her, that’s something, right?) and she is approximately nine(ish) weeks old. She and her four siblings (no, we’re not bringing home the rest of them) came into the Mister’s clinic about a month ago after they were found abandoned at the local farmer’s market.
The Mister had been one of their primary caregivers for all these weeks, and had taken a shine to a particular favorite: a black lab-ish female with a white chest and two white toes on one foot.
This is Lucy.
Lucy is one of four remaining puppies after the first got sick and died. In an effort to save the rest of the litter, the siblings were split up last weekend and sent home with the clinic technicians. The Mister’s favorite quickly started to show symptoms. Bad symptoms.
This is the kind of disease that is highly fatal (but thankfully not transmissible to Meera), so the only options were to attempt to treat her (with small chance of success) and bring her home, or go ahead and put her down.
We made our decision Sunday night. Things did not look good for our little visitor.
But, because I married a caring man, Lucy’s 11th hour came and she was pardoned. A phone call to my office said, “I just can’t do it. I’m going to try and treat her.”
Surprisingly, our little friend has rallied throughout the week and is expected to go home early next. Home. To our apartment. With us.
Like I said, I admittedly have not been on the puppy train this week. I might not be on the puppy train next week either. But, because I married a caring man, I’m actually surprised this is the first time this has happened. So I’m making an effort to get on board. It’s not like this is the first dog we’ve ever trained, and it won’t be the last. We move into our house in just over a month and will have a yard and a lot more room then, so it’s not the end of the world.
And who knows, maybe this little black wiggly ball of fluff will worm her way into my heart like she’s done with the Mister. Meera already likes her, anyway.
[No pictures yet, but updates will come next week, I’m sure.]