I’m the first to admit I have bad habits. I don’t floss as often as I should. I often forget to rake my hairball out of the shower drain, and I tend to listen to one song for two dozen rounds if I’m trying to learn a new tune inside out. That one’s not a big deal unless you happen to join me for a road trip.
Lately, my bad habit has been checking the website of the Edmonton Humane Society. I support my local animal shelter wholeheartedly, and I make a donation every year on Sherman’s birthday to help dogs and cats who aren’t lucky enough to be loved like he is, at least not yet. I’m not sure if I’m nesting, or if my ovaries are in overdrive, but I’ve been cruising for another furry family member over the last few weeks. Given the size of the dollhouse and its yard, I don’t actually plan to get another dog right now, although I admit to many lovely fantasies of a two-dog household. I picture walking in the evening with The Electrician, each of us tethered to a lovely dog.
Enter Francine. Last Friday night her photo and bio appeared on the Humane Society website. She was a rough collie mixed with something fun, perhaps German Shepherd, and she had a lightly freckled nose. We all know how I feel about dogs with speckles. There’s little to no hope for me when a pooch has polka dots. The best part was her fabulous ears. Francine’s ears were roughly (each) the size of a satellite dish, the old school kind the really lucky kids who had the really good t.v. channels gave up most of their back yards to house. I imagined talking to her and watching her massive ears swivel and tilt at the sound of my squeaky voice. I envisioned scratching her ears while we watched t.v., her head on one knee and Sherman’s on the other.
The best part of all was her sweet name. I could totally be the parent of mammals named Leroy, Sherman, and Francine. It was all I could do to keep myself from driving to the Humane Society and filling out the paperwork to bring her home to the dollhouse.
Luckily (sort 0f) The Electrician is more practical than I am. “Sweetie,” he gently reminded me, “you don’t have room for another dog as long as you’re renting out your basement, and this is a really busy time at school.” He was right, of course. I agreed to wait a couple days to see if Francine found a home. Despite knowing better, most of what I talked about that evening, even out on a walk with Sparky and Sherm, was Francine and her satellite dish ears. I also admit to mimicking her ears with my hands swiveling on the side of my head and talking about yet another freckled nose.
Saturday morning, I checked in with the EHS website, expecting to see Francine and very seriously considering taking a trip to the shelter with my leash. To my disappointment, Francine’s photo was gone. In Edmonton, there isn’t a time limit on how long dogs can stay at the shelter, so the fact that Francine’s profile disappeared meant she had found a family to love her, not that she had run out of time and faced euthanasia. I love living in a city with a kind shelter, and I’m proud to support their work. Yay, for the people who gave Miss Francine a second chance. I was still a bit sad inside.
Somewhere out in Edmonton is a sweet, sweet doggy with great big ears. I hope she’s happy, and I hope the people who took her home give her the kind of love she deserves for as long as she lives. If, by chance, the lucky people who adopted Francine read my little blog, please drop me a line and let me know how’s she’s doing.
As for me, I’m going to be grateful for my two sweet, hairy boys, three if I count The Electrician. I’m a lucky girl.
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