Or, dog, in this case.
Yes, dear readers, instead of blogging, instead of writing, but in addition to working my ass off, I got a dog.
Actually, I got a puppy.
Her name is Nugget. She is an Australian Cattle Dog (aka Blue Heeler) mixed with an Her foster dad named her that because she looks like she has chicken nuggets on her back.
Her full name? Chicken Nugget Face.
I don’t know why, but I call her “Nugget Face.”
Actually, I DO know why.
LOOK. AT. THAT. FACE.
There was no way I couldn’t take her home.
Here’s the story:
A couple of my customers had just decided to start fostering dogs. Their first mission was to take care of three puppies, two sisters and a brother. Nugget, Buttons, and Sammy (short for “Sammich”).
One of my Minions rescues Basset Hounds, so of course she’s extremely interested in animals of any kind. Well, they brought the pups into the store, all three still small enough to fit in a laundry basket, and it was all over.
Nugget was the one who caught my eye; she looked like a combination of two puppies I’d sort of fostered in 2001. Puppies I’d loved and couldn’t bear to part with–but I had to. But instead of going directly to her, I played with her sister, Buttons, who had some pretty coloring.
Sammy was adorable, too, but I kept looking at Nugget. The pups made a few visits to the store. They were growing so fast and just ridiculously cute. But every time I thought about not ever seeing Nugget again, I got so upset and emotional. Finally, I asked foster mom what it would take for Nugget to belong to me.
Even after being certain…ish, I was still waffling. I can barely take care of myself; fish and plants die under my care. But I was lonely, painfully lonely, and I’d been wanting a dog (read here: DOG) who would cuddle with me. I had never thought about getting a puppy.
I texted FM that I just couldn’t do it, that I couldn’t be so selfish as to make a pup conform to my lifestyle. I work kind of long hours. I don’t like going outside. She’d be better off with a family with kids.
And then the day after, I texted her again and told her I changed my mind.
I HAD TO.
And yes, I DO have some regrets: My skin is no longer flawless. I no longer have a couch. My time is no longer my own. I have no privacy in the bathroom. I’m not qualified to be a dog mom.
But have you SEEN her?
She’s MY dog, through and through. Fate brought her to me. I couldn’t close the door on her.
And you know what? The foster parents ended up adopting Sammy and foster mom’s mom got Buttons. #FosterFail