Big dogs, little dogs. I saw dogs of all shapes and sizes as I took a quick two-mile walk through the neighborhood tonight. I've had a few dogs in my life. First there was Skippy, who I was sure belonged to me even though he lived two hours away at my grandmother's house. There was Mutley. I knew he wasn't mine but I liked knowing I'd see him whenever I was down on the shore at my aunt's house.
Then there was Casey. He was the excitable puppy that my housemates and I adopted as a way to get over someones really bad breakup. I don't suggest this type of breakup therapy at all. Other friends bought new cars after a big breakup- that's a much better plan.
I do want a dog, really I do. However, I also know that the pace of my life these days is not in sync with the demands of dog ownership. Looking at the calendar I see that I have somewhere to be just about every weekend between now and July 13.
Eventually my life will slow down and there will be space and time for a new furry friend. Until then I'll enjoy the happy dogs in the neighborhood and those living the good life with my friends.
At the end of the walk I pushed through my front door and took a seat on the soft, red couch to take off my shoes. In a moment I was greeted by Scout, my large (but small in his own mind) cat, who trudged over to greet me. With a weak, squeaky mew he head-butted my arm as if to remind me, Really, I'm all you need.
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