Then one day while looking at shelter ads online, I came across a picture that seemed to have a message for me.
So I did what I had to do. I secretly stashed a leash, collar, and the exact adoption fee in cash into the glove compartment of my car, and told my family, “Let’s go for a ride!”
And then I said, “As long as we’re close by, why don’t we stop in the pet store and look at the puppies?” And, “Well, look at that, they’re having an adoption event today!”
And just like that, my desire to own a majestic and slightly imposing animal gave way to a new reality.
I was the owner of a skinny white dog.
By the time the skinny white dog was curled up in the back seat of my car and named Luna, the only thing left to do was to convince myself of the merits of having a white dog.
You know what’ll be great? I told myself. We won’t have any of those big piles of dark hair all over the place. No evil black dust bunnies gathering in the corners.
And you know what?
I was right.
It’s great not having dark furry tumbleweeds to sweep up. I don’t know how, but people always seem to be able to tell I own a white dog. They can sense it somehow.
I am thinking of brushing Luna outside from now on.
If I could just find the leash.