Saturday, August 7, 2010

How much is that doggy in the window...

Doesn't matter because we can't have one!

Yes, that was the conversation that I was forced to have today with the boys.  We were out at the local Lowes Home Improvement store getting ready for the big bathroom demolition that is hopefully going to happen this week when my cell phone rang.  It was Nick and he was across the street at Pet Smart where the humane society was practically giving away puppies.  Black Labs, to be exact.

Let me just sidebar here for a moment:  Back when I was in my early teens, my sister and I had been out shopping and stopped at the supermarket for something and someone was GIVING AWAY puppies.  You guessed it, Black Labs.  So, having been deprived of ever having a dog because mom was allergic, we took a puppy home because the Black Labs don't shed much and really, we NEEDED a puppy!  The store was only five minutes from our house and on that short car ride home we named our new puppy Abercrombie.  He was so adorable and snuggly and we were SO SURE that mom was going to love him.

She didn't.

She was pissed, she yelled, she cried, she made us take Abercrombie back to the box.  So today's phone call from the Pet Smart brought all of that back.  And if it were up to me, the new Abercrombie would be here in my house RIGHT NOW, snuggled up next to me in between times that I was rubbing his belly and teaching him to fetch.  But NO.  Our landlord does not ALLOW pets because some of his other tenants have had pets with fleas that have ruined their homes and when they moved out, he has had to do some major cleaning and repairing to fix what said pet has done.

New Abercrombie wouldn't do that.

So we had to be the bad guys.  We had to say no.  We had to NOT go and look at the puppies (who at that moment were being carted away in a puppy camper that was probably heading off to give them their last meal!) and had to drive home and be sad.

Granted, we have a cat who is an outside cat because he was rather obnoxious to have inside except in an emergency.  He was very territorial and any time that we DID let him in the house (without the landlord's knowledge) the damn thing would only sit in MY spot on the couch and then glare at me when I went to move him.  AND...he smells.  Having said that, neither of my children seem to care whether or not Fluffy Meowington (yes, that is his name) has food or water EVER.  So really, I am probably saving poor New Abercrombie's life because sooner or later, the novelty of having him would wear off and he would just wander around starving to death.

I still feel bad though...

1 comment:

Chatty Crone said...

I did the same thing when I was little - had to bring it back too.