I might get a dog. maybe.

Stop trying to make me want you with those...cute, adorable, droopy eyes.
Oh alright. If you insist.

It started about a year and a half ago. Josh was dropping hints about getting a dog. He'd talk about how much he missed our Walker hound, Bella, we had to give away when Delores was an infant. He'd suggest we just go look around at the humane society. He even went to the point to send me a picture of a stray he saw on his route with a "pleeeaase?"

My answer, always, was "NO WAY!" I'm the one that has to train the dog. The one that has to clean up the poop. The one that has to chase it around the house while also chasing around the lewis ladies and trying not to loose my friggin mind. 

But because I'm a deal makin kinda gal, I agreed that when our last child was around 3 years old I would consider getting a dog. Seemed like a fair deal. At 3 kids can kind of take care of their self and play by their self and I wouldn't have to spend so much time trying to keep the child from killing their self. 

I figured that would buy me like 3 more years. Little did I know the rollercoaster we would be on trying to have our last child. So here we are. Approaching the due date of our second miscarriage and my last little fireball, Lydia, is rolling right along to the threes and I've been catching myself contemplating getting a puppy.

A cute droopy basset hound puppy with its long floppy ears and short stubby little legs.  Not small enough to be an ankle bitter. Not big enough to knock glasses off tables or knock one of the ladies over. Still has the hound qualities I love, yet not too energetic that it needs a ton of yard space to follow its hunting insincts. It has Goldilock's Facebook status written all over it. Just right.

Now around my house everyone has been trained in such a fashion that when mamma says "jump," they don't wait to ask how high. They just start jumping. I don't bark demands at my husband but when I put an idea out there like "I think I want to get a dog. A basset hound in fact." He doesn't wait around for me to elaborate. He gets on it. Which is great. That's how I got walls knocked down in my house. Literally. But, sometimes that can backfire.

He's looking on the humane society's website, craigslist, iwanna, everywhere. He's showing me pictures of these puppies an hour away for $400. Then I get than panicky feeling like $400, what?! An hour away? Oh jeez and we have to buy food, a lesh, a bed, a collar, toys, treats, bowls. Where are we even going to put the bowls? Will Rosy eat next to a puppy?  God, what if I can't keep the puppy from eating the cat food? Will Rosy go all psycho kitty from jealousy? Will pee and poop even come out of concrete? Another vet bill! Crap I still have to take Rosy's to get those other two shots due like a year ago. Shuga! What did I get myself into?

Breathe...

Then I remember you take the good with the bad. Pray. Weigh your pros and your cons. Set your limits. Pray some more. Trust God. What is meant to be will be...but not for 400 big ones, that's for sure.

So we will wait till God puts the best dog in our path. Of course, I don't know when that will be. But at least I do know I want a puppy despite all the axiety ridden variables. I think. Maybe.