RSS:
Balance of Power Shifts
June 3, 2009Today we found out that we're getting a dog. It happened like this. Cassie said she wanted a dog. Okay, that was pretty much it. We, as responsible loving parents promptly "rolled over."
The first step in getting a dog is careful research of breeds, what to expect from each breed, what breed would offer us - as a unique family - the best experience and fit. Of course, we skipped that step. That step involved a lot of reading and books and stuff.
The next step was to decide where to get a dog. One option is a breeder, who somehow makes dogs, mostly out of that stuff you use in quilts, and that bendable wire and a whole lot of tape. However, that stuff you use in quilts apparently costs billions of dollars because it can only be harvested under a full moon by yak herders in the mountains of Nepal, and yak herders have recently unionized and that's affected prices. So a breeder dog costs just shy of $28,000.
So the next step after that was to look at rescued dogs. This is actually what we wanted to do, because if we can give a rescued dog a good home then we've accomplished two things: we've given a rescued dog a good home, and those yak herders don't get another dime of my hard earned money.
Cassie began browsing for a dog via Petfinder (using all of the carefully amassed data in step one) and found a candidate. However, I contacted the owner and it had just been given to someone in Nepal. The second dog Cassie found is named "Midnight." Instantly this seemed promising. There were no dogs listed like "Misery," "Despair," or "Anguish," so it was likely we would have to settle for something like "Midnight."
I contacted the owner and that set off an application process so thorough it makes me feel guilty no one questioned me more when I had live human children. I had to provide references. I had to give my birth date. I have to divulge my work place and profession. I had to share what vet we use. After the initial application, we were told the dog was being removed from the Internet because of all of the applications, but that we would be considered.
In the meantime Cassie had become the model child. Cleaning up the house, checking out dog books from the library, watching dog shows on TV - all in an attempt to learn more and roll her parents. So far her diabolical plan was working. The next step in the application process - and no I am not making this up - was to take pictures of the inside and outside of our house. At this point I passed the application process on to Alert Photographer Tammy, as there was no way I was going to photograph the interior of my house for a pet who likely wouldn't appreciate the photos I'd take anyway. I said I would support her continuing the process (this involved me standing some distance away, putting my fingers in my ears, waving my hands while making a pffffffttttttttttt! sound with my tongue) but that I wasn't going to steer it. She took the pictures and sent them off. We were hopeful that should this be a colossal mistake that God in His infinite mercy would destroy our block with a meteor.
Tammy received a response right away, and we were asked if we had a 12-year-old daughter named Cassandra, and if she had been emailing anyone at the rescue. Head smacking keyboard moment. We said yes, and if she had been a bother we apologized. She received a response to that, saying that we could have Midnight because the owner of the rescue, whom Cassie had been writing, was so impressed with her questions and her maturity.
So, with the email up on Alert Dog Acquirer Tammy's computer screen, I called Cassie into the room and asked her in a stern voice if she had been emailing about Midnight. She nervously said, "Yes, why?" Tammy said "You better read that email young lady." Trembling she sat down and read. Then she shouted and jumped up and down, laughed, screamed and sobbed all in about 60 seconds.
We will likely visit Midnight this weekend (Cassie turns 13 on Friday) and if everything seems to click we will bring him home. He's a lab/shepherd mix, and we're told that he will grow to be 18' tall and eat a buick's weight in food each day.
In a pinch he'll also be good at herding yak.
