I’ve wanted a dog forever. The doctor said a wiser choice would be fish, since I’m allergic to everything. Nevertheless, my Dad proceeded to purchase a 120 pound german shepherd. Eventually my allergies adjusted enough for us to “co-exist.” When she passed away, we switched to hypoallergenic choices: Lenny, a fluffball Bishon, and Roarke, a rescue Maltese. Poor Roarke can blame his name on my sister, who had just finished reading another Ayn Rand novel….
After moving out, I wanted a little furry companion too. My parents argued I wasn’t responsible enough. Crickets. My entire life I’ve been chided for being overly-responsible and needing to relax; what the hell kind of excuse was that? So they argued I was too busy. This was true. I was never home. So I held off–until this past fall.
I quit my full-time teaching job and moved in with my fiancee. Now, someone is always home. Another excuse made void! Finally, I had outlasted all roadblocks to my lil’ pup!
But now it’s a money thing. Upcoming grad school and a summer wedding make money tight. I suggested we give ourselves a dog for Christmas and ask family members for the rest (a cage, dish bowls, a gift certificate for getting hair did). But alas, to no avail.
Maybe I should stop basing decisions on everyone else. I’ve disregarded advice on everything from food and wine to major life decisions, so why stop now? I just want my own puppy