How Not to Adopt a Dog
Of all the items on my 100 Things Challenge list, I thought adopting a dog would be one of the least challenging tasks. I’m an idiot.
As you may have read, I adopted a dog yesterday. His name is Winston. There will undoubtedly be a period of adjustment, it’s only been a little over 24 hours, but I’ve rarely felt more stress. Worst of all, I’m starting to think I’ve made a huge mistake.
Two days ago, on Thursday, Jan. 19, 2012 at 5:55 p.m., I went to Toronto Animal Services to meet a dog named Ralphie. TAS identified him as a Pembroke Welsh Corgi / Jack Russell cross, so I did some research on the breeds. The information I found online suggested that Jack Russell’s are very energetic and driven. “I can deal with that,” I thought, “it would get me out to the park, time to spend with Winston playing and having some fun.” Pembroke Welsh Corgis are described as “very affectionate” — sounds great to me! — and “tend to follow wherever their owners go” — I work from home, so no problem there.
I spent about 15 minutes with him in a 12′ x 14′ room. We took to each other instantly. He laid down beside me, put his head in my lap. This dog is great! It’s too late to do the adoption that evening, to fill out the paperwork and setup the tags, so I have to come back the next afternoon. Yesterday afternoon (Friday, Jan. 20, 2012) I went to the TAS and adopted Ralphie Winston.
