Jessie, it turns out, is not housebroken, and so we will not be adopting her. I am a newbie and want to make things as easy as possible and am not prepared to train an adult doggie to potty outside. Of course the easiest thing would be to not adopt a dog. Lord knows we don’t need the extra expense, responsibility or sleep deprivation.
Still, insanely, a dog beckons. Woof, it says. Adopt me.
As my eating revolution tempers into my just-the-way-it-is habit, my mind trolls the hills and valleys of this fine cold land for something new to chew over. There on a hill, peeing on a lone apple tree, is a pooch. A chihuahua mix named Jessie who needs a home.
I realized today that I can be quite an anti-social creature. Sometimes it takes me a few decades to figure stuff out. This anti-socialness is heightened by the fact that I no longer drink, party or eat baked goods. Or maybe it’s certain moments—those Friday dead battery days when I’ve exerted all I can during the week—cooking, schlepping and supervising, and the wind whips and the temperature drops and all I want to do is huddle in bed with my laptop glowing, entertaining me InstantPlay style, distracting me from the things that overwhelm—things like money, career, book deals, children, marriage and shelter dogs.
This feels like old news now, it being November and all, I mean where did the time go? But I’ll post it anyway in the spirit of closure and results.
School parade. Sweets included. Natch.
