The New Guy
I’ve only been to the SPCA twice. Both times just to look. The first time I came home with a cat.
Heather and I went to the SPCA today. Just to look. And, of course, we can home with a new friend. He’s a 1 year old Chihuahua mix. He’s gentle and sweet and we have yet to hear him bark. And I so totally love him.
It’s hard to feel the joy of this new friend without grieving all over again for Tigger. The trainer woman at the SPCA even knew what happened.
“We’re a tight community, us dog folks,” she said.
It felt right to get a dog from someone who knew the story.
No matter what happens, Heather and I will always have a Tigger-sized hole in our hearts. But this new guy, whatever we decide his name is, isn’t here as a replacement. He’s here because we saw him and, as Heather said, he put the whammy on us.
So far, reactions in the household have been mixed. Chieka is mostly indifferent, Spoo is curious about the new guy that growls at her when she gets too close (we’ll have to work on that), and I swear I heard the house rumble “nooooo!” the first time he looked confused for a moment and peed on the carpet (yeah, we’ll work on that, too).
Me? I’m ecstatic. I think he’s just the best. He has a real gentle quality that I love. And he’s scruffy and spotted and kinda unkempt like me. The only bummer is, I’ve lost my favorite joke. Used to be, when someone made a sideways comment about my little dogs, I could say: “They came with the girl.” Which they did. And it wasn’t just a fair trade, it was a giant fucking bonus.
But this guy? This guy I wanted. I picked him out with my sweetheart and we signed on the bottom line and took him home. On purpose. Together.
It’s time to face facts. I likes me a Chihuahua. And I’m not making any jokes about it anymore. They rock. If you don’t get it, well, that’s your loss.
Like Heather always said, it takes a big man to walk a small dog.