I am having great trepedation...

Why, you ask? Because...well, I seem to be destined for a small furball I haven't even met yet. I received a call the other day about something I really needed but would be reluctant to get. No, it wasn't a telemarketer. After a game of twenty questions, the answer turned out to be a puppy. A four-month-old Black Lab/Cocker/Australian Shepherd/several other unidentifiable breeds puppy, whose disposition is very similar to my dog Cerys' and who is apparently from incredibly small parents and so shouldn't weigh much more than 30 lbs, despite the Shepherd. She basically looks like a Lab puppy with Cocker ears and wavy hair, or so I've been told.

Now, you have to understand that I have four animals--one dog and three cats (obviously I'm not including the fish, who are generally not mobile beyond the aquarium). A few years ago I had another dog, a beagle/basset cross that I loved but no one else saw the charm in. Unfortunately, he needed a bigger family--one with kids that could walk him a lot and give him a lot of attention. And so, I found him a home. So, really, I know that five is doable. Also, my youngest is ten and my oldest will soon be fifteen--so I have a very rough few years ahead. It was pointed out to me that I would probably need a younger animal to comfort me through this time. Still, I placed myself on a moratorium for animals several years ago, because I was on my way to being one of those ladies with too many cats you always read about. I could see me hoarding animals.

This is different. I'm not even sure I want another dog. But I've learned to trust the caller's intuition--and my own. The caller felt so strongly about it that he offered to pay the adoption fee. And, just for good measure, I asked a certain version of my Patroness as well. So far, I keep coming up with a sense that this is a good idea. So even though my head goes no...well, of course we'll see.

Another snag: I went to go meet the puppy tonight but it turns out she's at the vet. Apparently she has a very light case of Parvo, which in itself is not good, but she's expected to recover. She's a rescue puppy, and the rescue group is paying for her vet fees at present. If, (oh hell, let's just say when) I adopt her, she'll be spayed with her first round of shots up to date.

I've never had such a young puppy. I've never actually done the training from the beginning. Cerys pretty much came the way she is--she was eight months old, housebroken, and pretty set in her psyche already. She only tore up two (irreplaceable) objects during a brief chewing phase. I'm not sure I'm ready for a puppy, but the universe seems to have decided otherwise. The universe, I've noticed, has a wicked sense of humour.

Nothing will come of any of this for at least three weeks. That's how long it should be before she's around other dogs. That will give me time to puppy-proof the house and get Cerys to her annual physical--she's due for her shots about now. Then we get to see how they get along, and I'll go from there. Oy ve. Wish me luck.