The Tootsmeister rests easy, unaware that soon she will get a pet dog. Whether she wants one or not.

The other day, I found our Dream Dog and filled out the application for her adoption and emailed it in.

Then I sent an email to Dream Dog’s foster mommy, telling her what great puppy parents we would be.

After that I called the adoption agency and left an impassioned message saying hello, introducing myself, and asking if the email had gone through because one never knew with computers these days, ha ha [feeble attempt to sound easygoing] and we would really, really like to give this little princess a loving home, so please call us and let us know if she’s still available, because we’d really love to meet her, and—[cue sound of being cut off by bored answering machine.]

Yesterday, I called again. I got the voice mail again. As I left another message, I heard that tone in my voice. You know the one. I’d like to describe it as a hopeful tone, but it was a bit stronger than that. I think the word I’m looking for is “begging.” Yes, that’s about right. I really, really hadn’t wanted to sound all beggy, but I think I said, “Please, please, plleeeeeaaaaaase” a few too many times to sound even remotely cool. Or sane.

Now I get to wait, and patience and I have never been close. In fact, I think I slammed the door in Patience’s face when we were kids, and it’s never forgotten. Well, now it’s laughing, and I believe I remember Patience as having a high-pitched, nasal, girlie laugh. How annoying.

I know there are a lot of dogs out there that I could be looking into, but I should’ve mentioned that while Patience and I are not on speaking terms, Obsessive Thinking is my superclose buddy. In fact, OT just came over last night and asked me repeatedly about the dog—“Did you hear back from the foster mommy yet? Do you think you will? Did you send the adoption form again? What will you do if they don’t call by tomorrow? By Friday? By the weekend? What do you think happened?” All this while cleaning us out of those excellent baked pita chips the Hubbins loves. That pig.

So yes, I’m fixated on this one dog, and I also don’t want to start the process with another dog and then hear about the Dream Dog; what then?

I’ll just have to pretend I’m not home when Obsessive comes knocking, and maybe I’ll send another email—this one to Patience, apologizing—and wait.

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