Day 65: The Verdict

There are so many reasons not to get a dog. And it’s important to consider them all before making a decision. I thank Marianna especially for pointing out a lot of the realities. Yet despite logic tipping the scale toward the Don’t Adopt Dusty side, I couldn’t let the idea go, and I can’t explain it. I also can’t explain my continuing utter panic. This is how Molly described my internal state last night as I agonized: A leaning of a yes but with incoherent background screaming. The evening e-mails and calls of encouragement from friends and family were sustaining. Still, by bedtime I felt terribly alone with all this. Hugging my pillow helped. I had until 10:00 this morning to make up my mind.

A tiny handful of people has seemed a little surprised that this is precipitating mighty anxiety, when I should be feeling excited. I do have my psychiatric challenges. It does seem that others have an easier time welcoming a new animal into their life than I do. I worry: Am I up to the task? I’m not at all used to having responsibility for another living creature. And what about her: Will she be truly sweet and gentle? What will she destroy? Will she let me sleep at night? How will she respond to the grandkids? Is she as good with other dogs as they say? And how, in this pandemic, will I know the answers to the last two?

By shortly after 6:00 this morning, I let go of my pillow and got up to face the world. I paced and anguished as I watched the minutes approach the appointed hour. I was whooped-up enough that I endured bouts of nausea. At 9:50 a.m. my fingers sent the foster mother this message: I would like to adopt Dusty. I hope that still works for you.

To which she soon replied: I am so happy you made the decision to adopt her! I think she will be a wonderful addition to your family!  

Shortly after, Elana and I made a run to the local Pet Food Express where, with the help of a patient young man, I dropped $275 on everything from food and bowls to toys and treats. I dug out Otis’ giant old crate from the basement, cleaned the muck out, and (after Elana hoisted it up the stairs) set it up in my room, ready for an occupant.

I imagine that, after having been shuffled around since May 6, this will be yet another hard adjustment for Dusty, since she’s so sensitive, and that she might go into another decline for a while.

And speaking of Dusty, at least it’s not Petunia or something, but I think we need something with a little more pizzazz. Along those lines, nine-year-old Ember sent me this text:

Mama ginna if you’re going to get the dogs and you need help naming it I would name it silver

Ever the bubble-burster, I replied:

Hi Sweetie. “Silver” is a nice name, but this dog is more light tan with no grey and silver on her… I hope you’ll send me other ideas.

So, who has suggestions for a new name? Here’s another picture to inspire your creativity. Eleni had a long list of possibilities that included Ember’s two favorites: Polly and Sylvie.

Tomorrow at noon, I will go back to Rio Vista to pick her up. Yes, I am very worried. But I hope we adjust to each other.

Onward, to a new topic. I finished two projects today. Well, not really projects, but activities. The first was Molly’s puzzle, whose remaining pieces came in today’s mail. Perhaps you were eager to see the end result?

And then there’s this: