Bob Barker urged us to get our pets spayed or neutered. We all remember this sign off every time we stayed home from school sick (or lying.)
I’ve had two dogs – both were neutered (at the decision of my family or myself.) When I was in high school, my friend Allie came to visit me and we went to visit with her cousin in the city. We went with her cousin to get her cats balls removed. I want to say the cats name was Pigeon. I distinctly remember her saying “Say goodbye to your balls, Pigeon” as we dropped him off.
Let’s take a minute to talk about my dog history. A brief history. When I was eight, my parents and I drove to Detroit for thanksgiving with some cousins. Prior to us getting there, they had found this tiny puppy on their doorstep. They made arrangements for it to go to a no-kill shelter, but they had a wait list, so they held onto the puppy until his turn was up. While on the wait list we met the puppy, fell in love, found we were inexplicably NOT allergic to it (including my HIGHLY allergic, asthmatic mother,) and took him home. Patches.
Just shy of 12 years later, Patches died. Mom and dad were staunchly against getting a dog. We won’t love it as much. We can’t try to replace the magic we had. Who is going to care for it when you’re not here?
I was ready. I needed another dog. Not right away. I grieved. Hard. But eventually, I was ready. I didn’t want another Patches. I wanted a smaller dog, that didn’t shed, that was a mutt and I didn’t want to buy it. Basically I wanted a designer dog for free… so a unicorn.
Four years later, now living in Florida, I caught that unicorn. Gizmo came into my world, flipped it upside down, and made it exceptionally better. He was the dream dog: 12 pounds, half poodle (non-shedding) mutt, and needed a home. Gizmo.
Now, 4.5 years later – when he is 9ish – I find myself wondering if my “puppy luck” has run out. How many times can you find the exact right dog the exact way you want to? Once is lucky. Twice is pretty freaking lucky.
Thrice probably won’t happen.
I’ve made my peace with this, but I’m not happy about it. In hind sight, I wish I had bred Gizmo so that I’d have more of him for when he leaves my world a shell of what I know and love.
The following conversation happened earlier. Verbatim.
No, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. I wish I had thought of it 4.5 years ago. Or that some scientist doctor wants to clone my little angel.
Let’s hope I keep being lucky so I don’t have to regret not preserving my dog’s balls in a freezer all this time.