I am waiting, impatiently, to adopt a new dog. It's crazy. I've filled out dog adoption forms. Now the refuge place is checking all my references, calling my vet, seeing if I'm worthy to care for a new dog. They raised their eyebrows when I told them about my seven cats. They wondered if perhaps I had reached my limit.
I began to feel bad. A little nutty. Then I drove out into the country with my 15-year-old dog Stella to see our farmland vet. She was running late. Some dog patient had to have emergency surgery for an enlarged spleen. The size of a basketball! A real Indiana dog! Everything in Indiana has to be related in basketball terms.
So all the dogs and cats and their owners sitting in the waiting room got chatty. The conversation, of course, ran to the dogs, and cats. One person rescues Huskies. One person rescues Rat Terriers. Daughters and sons attend Purdue and study animals! Everyone has cats. Lots of cats. 15 cats. 20 cats. Abandoned cats fill the yards and barns. I felt almost cat poor. We all have our cats spayed or neutered, but there are always more!
Eventually Stella and I make it back to the exam room. Stella has a growth that must be clipped out of her ear. They muzzle her and do it quickly, with no anesthesia, because she's just too old. Driving home I feel better. Not so nutty. Just another animal lover doing her thing.
Today I'm still waiting to see if the animal refuge organization agrees.