12.13.05
Okay, the ferrets were my idea.
I’ve always loved animals and while my parents were quite amenable to having dogs, hamsters, fish, and even a rabbit, I always dreamed of being a grown up and being able to have as many animals as I wanted.
When I had five ferrets and two dogs I saw the flaw in the fantasy: Pets require a lot of time and attention and, well … work.
The ferrets were gone and we were down to one dog by the time our daughter was born. Whew. Breathe a sigh of relief. That lasted exactly until our daughter was seven weeks old. An opportunity came along for us to adopt an “almost” purebred boxer puppy.
Let me just say here that I might have been responsible for ferrets, but my husband is responsible for the dogs. Including this one. We named her Jazzmatazz.
Did we research boxers at all before accepting one into our home? Did weknow they “maintain their youthful exuberance” all their lives? Did we know they’re called boxers because they actually use their heavy front paws to box? Oh boy.
Two years later our old mixed-breed dog has crossed the bridge to puppy heaven, and we have learned a lot about boxers. Like that they could knock an eye out with those paws. Like that they have oodles of boundless energy.
Jazz was too much dog for me, the primary care-giver to household animals and children, to handle. This beautiful, sweet-tempered animal was starved for both attention and exercise at our house. I wavered back and forth between feeling guilty and feeling exasperated, and came to the conclusion this dog was simply a poor match for our family. No fault of the dog’s.
For months I warned my husband that I was looking for a home for Jazz. For months he warned that I’d break our daughter’s heart. I kept looking for a solution to this mismatch, and finally found a home for this friendly, happy, high-energy dog with a high-energy teenaged boy. Our daughter, who’s two years old, waved goodbye as they pulled out of the driveway. A few days later I asked her, “Do we have a dog?” She answered, “Noooo,” with a tone that implies she already thinks I’m not the brightest bulb in the box. I could practically hear her eyes rolling.
No animals. Sweet relief. I haven’t lived in an animal-free environment since moving out of my parent’s house when I was twenty-one. It feels amazingly … clean. And quiet.
It’s been a couple of weeks now, and I hear our lovely boxer is doing well with her new family. We have no animals except for the occasional uninvited mouse, and they don’t count as pets. I’ve been thinking maybe we should get a cat. After all, they’re low-maintenance animals, right?
Last night my husband said, “We need a dog. Maybe we should get our daughter a puppy for Christmas. I was thinking an English Bulldog.”
Please, somebody, tell me he’s joking.
To read The Dog Problem from the Reader Weekly archives click the link below ....
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