This sounds like a bad bar joke: “A woman who lives in an apartment with an open, circular staircase wants to adopt a blind poodle…”

The day after the rescue operation’s home visit–after which, by the way, they gave me the okay to adopt the blind poodle–I couldn’t sleep at all for the nightmarish visions of this poor little sightless creature falling to her poodle death as a result of my good (albeit stupid) intentions. To be fair, I also couldn’t sleep because The Hubbins and I were currently bedding down on the floor of my home office; there was a small leak in the bedroom ceiling, The Hubbins had to cut a hole the size of a pizza box in the plaster to find the source. After that, we had a faux indoor ceiling fountain cascading into one of my cake-mixing bowls. I don’t think this is what the feng shui manuals had in mind when they recommended bringing the five elements together to promote harmony in the bedroom.

Feng shui on a shoestring.

The next day, stiff and sleep-deprived, I called the poodle’s foster mommy and told her this wasn’t going to work out. “The fact that you’re so concerned just shows me that you’re the right person to adopt S___” (name withheld to protect the poodle’s privacy). Then I told her we’d probably have to rip the entire ceiling out and sequester said blind canine with two cats who were going to despise her on–well, sight. At that point she came around to my point of view (oy, kill me now with these sight-related puns).

Fortunately there were other prospective adopters for S___, hopefully ones with single-level homes and not potential deathtraps.

Right after that, I got an email from SOS Beagle Rescue, Inc., another adoption agency I’d applied to. This group rescues beagles that were either former house pets or hunting dogs that weren’t very good at their jobs. Layoffs in this line of work are pretty severe–the beagles are either abandoned or shot to death.

“Your application has been approved,” the email read. “Your beagle is ready to be met.”

To be continued…

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