So, here’s what’s happening to me lately: I have puppies on the brain. There’s not a lot I can do about it and it’s worse for somebody like me (i.e. a sucker for animals). My good friend just got a new puppy, and she sends me adorable videos of him. I was walking my boys the other day and I saw a guy from the neighborhood walking a new puppy. Facebook is filled with pictures of puppies. I can’t get away.
Thing is, I’m not sure I want to. It might be time. Please know that I say this with very emotional hesitation. My mini Aussie, Finley (the love of my life), will be twelve this year. Do you know what the average life span of a mini Aussie is? Yeah, it’s twelve. Now, Fin is in good health, eats well, gets regular exercise, so it’s entirely possible that he will shatter that average. I certainly hope so because he is the best dog in all of life. Ever. And he has also promised never to leave me, so… Still, that moment will come. I know it. I dread it, but I know it.
The other reality of the situation is that my Scottie, Duncan, is not only a mama’s boy, but very much in love with his big brother, so when Fin decides it’s time, I don’t think Bonnie and I will be the only ones devastated and suffering from separation anxiety. Thus, with all the puppies around us lately, we’ve opened the door to the discussion of bringing in another member of the family. Not quite yet, but soon. This year, most likely.
Stay tuned. I’ll keep you updated. In the meantime, why should I be the only one to suffer? Here you go: