One of these days I’m going to do what I say I’m going to do, walk the walk, so to speak. I am about as good at follow through as I am at figure skating. I frequently hop onto my soapbox and make sweeping proclamations such as, “There shall be no more Disney channel tripe on any television in MY house!” or “You children shall never eat another morsel of food upstairs!” only to find that two hours later both kids are in the bonus room eating cheese crackers and watching “Hannah Montana”. I’ll roll my eyes, let out an audible sigh, and mutter “whatever” under my breath. Only this time I was sure I was making a promise to myself that I could keep. What I didn’t know was that karma, sneaky little witch that she is, had a different idea.
I am determined to become a pet-free household. I plan to accomplish this by attrition, of course. I have no dastardly plans to "accidentally" lace the dog food with Hershey bars or "accidentally" remove their tags and then "accidentally" leave the gate open, nothing like that. (However, strangely enough, the wind does have a tendency to catch the gate and move it on occasion. Hmmm...) I even went so far as to make my lust for a dog-hair-free home public. As my son’s birthday was approaching, he told me that the only thing he really wanted was a dachshund, a living, breathing dachshund. Upon hearing this request, I climbed to the top of the proverbial mountain and stood tall as I declared in my most condescending, I-know-what’s-best-for-everyone voice, “We will never have another dog in this house unless one of the three dogs we already have dies, and that’s not going to happen any time soon!”
Well, in case you haven’t heard, about a week after spewing this gem of a declaration, one of our dogs died. (Insert karma here.) It’s not that I wasn’t sorry for Pippy’s passing, it’s just that downsizing by only one dog made a noticeable difference in my stress level. Pippy was the Drama Queen Dog, the one voted “Most Likely to Piss Off Lynda”. What we have now are two dogs who are willing to go out the door to do their business, even in the rain. We have dogs that aren’t constantly thrusting themselves onto your lap and forcing their little noses into your ribcage. A girl like me can get used to this life.
Unfortunately, I knew what Number One Son was thinking. Heck, I’m the one that put the thought in his head! He had to be sure to wait an acceptable amount of time, but I could see the wheels turning. He was scheming to finally get his dachshund. He started by just casually browsing the Petfinder website and pointing out various local dachshunds who were in desperate need of a “forever home”. (This kid knows me too well.) I thought it was quite a coincidence how each and every one was “great with kids!” or “a wonderfully well-behaved little doxie!” He failed to take into account, however, that no picture, regardless of the cuteness factor of the stubby-legged weenie dog, can break through my impenetrable force field of determination to reclaim my home from the hounds! I WILL NOT BE MOVED!
Meet Henry. We're bringing him home tomorrow...