Last night's post wasn't intended to be obnoxiously vague, though in the light of today I can see why people might have thought otherwise. The truth is that I didn't get home from work until almost ten o'clock and because I was too beat to put very many words down but still wanted to document a large to extra large thing that had occurred in my life I uploaded a picture of B on the couch with two dogs, pecked out a single sentence and then went to sleep. When I woke up this morning I was a little bit shocked to find a slew of text messages awaiting me, all posing the same question.
To answer (some of) the above questions, yeah, B and I took in two dogs yesterday. We hadn't really intended to take in even one dog, let alone twice that many, but special circumstances (love, mostly) changed that.
A week or so before Christmas last year a former client of Bevan's when he worked in homeless services asked if we could care for her two dogs while she visited out-of-town family during the holidays. I was originally solidly against the idea because the dogs had been living on the street for various periods of time throughout their lives and I figured that they'd be dirty and smelly and maybe even dangerous and also I wasn't too keen on spending my holiday break trekking through clumps of dog hair on my way to the kitchen. In the end, however, we ended up agreeing to babysit the woman's dogs and over the course of their two-week stay in our home they totally won me over and when the time came to give them back a couple of days into the new year I was pretty heartbroken. After they'd been gone for a few days our lives had returned to normal and although the ache of missing became less strong I still thought about those dogs quite often. Then, earlier this week B received another message from the dogs' owner, this time explaining that one of them had nipped at her one-year-old son who doesn't yet know the difference between a pat and a punch and that she regretfully needed to find another place for both of the dogs to live. When B read me the text during dinner prep a few nights ago I immediately thought about those two sweet pups who'd already been through so much in their lives being put in a shelter or back on the street or something even worse and we just couldn't let that happen, so now we have two dogs.
We don't know very many completely-for-sure things about our new dogs, but what we do know is that Buddy (the first pic) is a three-ish-year-old male who appears to be made mostly of chihuahua parts and Patches (the second pic) is a ten-year-old female pitbull-slash-other-things mix. We've been calling Buddy "Lil' Perv" because he's always trying to lick the inside of Patches' mouth and put his, well, dog stuff where it doesn't belong and we've taken to calling Patches "Big Momma" because she's pensive and serious and wise-seeming but also incredibly affectionate and protective.
Even though it's only been two days, these dogs have already taken over the house. They slept in our bed last night even though we didn't invite them to and they spent all of today lounging on the living room sofa and both B and I have been walking around the house talking to them in these really gross, high-pitched, helium-filled voices that I really hate but can't help. Both of them love to cuddle up next to us when we're reading the newspaper or watching TV and they're so damn stoked to see us every time we walk in the door, even if we'd just run out to Safeway for a carton of eggs fifteen minutes before. So far it's been pretty wonderful to have these two around and after only a couple short days I now absolutely understand why "dog people" are, well, dog people.