Boys versus Dogs

Last weekend I almost adopted a dog.  The girls and I had gone grocery shopping and happened upon an animal fair.  There were mobile veterinary clinics, dog obedience schools, dogs parading in Halloween costumes, and dogs waiting to be adopted.  I am sympathetic to the girl's desire for a dog.  Cassie, especially, regularly attempts to negotiate with me.  Will a clean basement earn a dog?  Will a promise to do homework immediately after school every day be enough?  What if she promises to be the one walking the dog at 5:00 a.m. every day?  So far, I have resisted because the reality is that I will be the one taking the pre-dawn walks and the one cleaning up the back yard.
 
Then, we saw this dog that was so cute.  He was a cross between a Pit Bull and some rare hunting dog that I'd never heard of before.   The woman who is fostering him described all his wonderful traits and I agreed to take him for a walk.  Although the dog nearly tore off my arm, I still thought he was pretty cute. 

I called Les and explained that the adoption fee included shots, neutering and a cage.  Les told me that he would trust me to make the right decision.  We had just put our oldest cat to sleep and a dog might be what the house needed.  Then, Les called me back and said that he still trusted me to make the right decision.  But, he wanted me to think carefully.  I took the nice doggie back to his cage, thanked the woman and got her contact information.

This week, I thought about that dog every day, wondering if I'd made the right decision.  Maybe we do need a dog around the house to keep us busy.  Cassie is gorgeous and I know it won't be that long before boys discover her.  So, maybe I should call and see if that dog was still available. . .Which did I really want hanging around the house, a stray dog or a stray boy? 

Friday evening, Cassie told me that a boy at school had written a poem about her.  "Oh, geez," I thought.  Here we go.  Where did I put the number to the animal shelter?"

Then, Cassie showed me the poem.  I heaved a tremendous sigh of relief.  I could so easily have burdened myself with a dog.    For the near future I'm safe.

Here is a reprint of the poem:


"Cassie is obnoxious.
She is really mean to me.
She beleaguers me.
She is a redhead with braces.
But, she is bad!
Her verbal attacks impale and explode my crimson heart.
Her stern look shows that she's dauntless."

How Was Your Evening?

Les has been out of town for the past several days on business.  Last night he called and said, "How was your evening?"
 
"What do you mean 'how was my evening?'" I demanded.  "My evening has only just begun."
 
"Well, then, how is it going?" Les persisted.
 
"We just walked in the door from the fund-raising dinner," I began.  "You know, we never finished discussing what Cassie and I learned at the high school information night.  Do you want to hear about all that now?"
 
"Sure," Les agreed.
 
"Well," I continued, "after spending 30 minutes learning that almost all the specialty programs are lottery-based, and that the county now has a big agriculture program, we decided to speak directly to the instructor from the fine arts program.  The school just announced a major change to the program.  Students may now apply in only one content area."
 
"Uh huh," snuck in Les.
 
"Don't you remember that Cassie has only been planning for about three years now to apply to both the creative writing and the visual arts programs?  Now she has to pick one.  It will take a lot of conversations at Starbucks to sort out this challenge.  Then, this afternoon I had to take Cassie to the allergist and then to her violin lesson.  Because you aren't home, Lacey had to go along.  Now, both girls have homework to do and I have lunches to pack.  And, speaking of homework, Lacey brought home a note from her teacher that I had to sign because she forgot to turn in her homework.  We finally found her homework mixed in with a bunch of bills."
 
"Uh, well, I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.  Love you guys," said Les.
 
I hung up and headed toward the porch to feed the stray cat.  As I pushed three pair of Lacey's shoes out of the way, I wondered how I was going to get through the rest of the week.
 
Later, as Lacey headed up the stairs she called, "Good night, Cassie."

"Good night, " Cassie answered.  "I love you, Lacey."

"I love you too," Lacey responded.

That was all it took for me to realize that my evening was just fine.