Anywhere But Here: Frogs and Dogs

My favorite boss - one of three - is one of these "all or nothing" people. It's pretty funny. Anyway, he's going through a really hard time - been stuck in a bad marriage for 7 years, and is honestly a really good guy. Staying in it for the sake of the kids.

I don't know what it is about people who are unhappy or lonely, but we get pets.
So my boss decides to buy a 60 gallon aquarium, along with five platys. All female. All pregnant.

So now my boss has 120 baby platys, all separated into their own little holding tanks so they don't get et*.

Boss convinces me to get an aquarium. Went to my new favorite thrift store, and bought a 30 gallon, perfectly working aquarium for $5. I'm a shopper extraordinaire, I tell you.

Then boss tells me that the local PetSmart has those African Dwarf Frogs - the itty bitty ones (as big as my pinky, maybe) that swim in the fishtank and eat the algae.

I freak. I've looked for those stinking frogs for close to 5 years now, and haven't been able to find them. Been told by a handful of pet store employees that those frogs don't come to GA.

I knew that they would go fast. I went home Thursday night (July 12th) and tell Z that we're getting fish. And frogs. He looked at me funny, as he knew I was on a rolling three day long manic state.

Saturday - Went to the Booth Museum for the first time with Charky and Momma in Law - Wow is that place gorgeous. Absolutely amazing art work. Very contemporary stuff, too. It looks like a Smithsonian museum, which it now is, I suppose. Crittersville is getting modern, people.

Go to favorite Noon meeting, which I am now the GSR of. That means Georgia State Representative, and it sounds a little politic and bureaucratic for me, considering I am so anti-establishment and I really just joined AA as someone who wanted recovery. Sanity. Contentment. The opportunity to visualize a better life through my blurry vision.

Then off to PetCo, which is recommended by a local Acworthian friend (it's cheaper than PetSmart). Pull into parking lot, and tell Z and Charky we are only looking at the Humane Society pets for a minute, then buying frogs.

Well it just didn't work that way. I was feeling pretty strong (1 mg. klonopin) and safe, so I felt like I could bond with the animals and pat all of them. Which was a lot of fun by the way. Pass two crates full of dalmatian-colored kitties. Pass a crate with a lab mix. Pass and pat a crate with a funny looking, sad-eyed brown and tan dog, who looks kind of little and skinny. Pass a chow-lab mix. Pass a wheaten terrier, who proceeds to growl at me so I skip the patting. Return back down the line, heading out towards the fish section. Stop at the funny looking tan and black dog.

Looked at this dog in the eyes. We gazed at eachother for a minute. I sat down next to the crate, and began to stroke him as best as I could through the bars. Timid, and retreated back from my hand a bit, but slowly the dog realized I was calm and of gentle spirit, so he allowed me to pat his face, his neck, his breast.

Slowly I stand up, and the Humane Society women proceed to explain that the dog is a girl, and she is 3. A Doberman Pinscher, and lived with 10 cats at her foster home. Very socialized, calm, regal, and gentle. A big house-baby, doesn't really want to go outside much. The owner just gave her up, said he didn't really want a dog anymore. Humane Society woman loves this dog, and wishes she could keep her.

I regretfully proceed to the fish section, where Charky is already yelling about some stingray. Z even more slowly follows behind, his gait labored. You can tell when he's walking slow because he's in pain or when he's pondering something significant.

I find the frogs, and discover my excitement is no longer about my coveted froggies. I'm thinking about that dog. My heart grows more weary, as I think about all the warnings Z has given - we don't have a fenced yard, we can barely afford our own family, we can't keep our house clean as is with two cats and destructo-kid.

Z looks at the frogs disinterestedly. I quietly say, "She's 3, and is house-broken, calm, and gets along with cats and children. Big house baby, sleeps on the couch."

I ask him what he's thinking.

Like usual, he gives me this passive answer: "I dunno. What are you thinking?".

I respond, "I'm debating whether to go ask those Humane Society ladies to let me walk the dog around the store on a leash."

Poof. Z is gone. I finish talking to the fish employee about my froggies, and ask all the questions I can think of. He kindly gets me a little canvas bag thingie to hold my bag of froggies and the water conditioner and other accessories.

Z shows up in the fish section with this lanky pooch, smooth-haired, with this skinny face and big sad eyes. She is following him at his side, practically hunching over, smelling everything and feeling a bit nervous with all of the activity smells children animals in that place. I sit down on the floor again, in the middle of the PetCo aisle, with my canvas bag holding the froggies at my side. Begin to pat and stroke her, and calm her down. She lays down on the floor, and puts her feet in my lap.

So we spend another hour and a half being emotionally torn about this dog. We don't need a dog. Consider that the Humane Society lady is really just selling the dog, because she wants it out of the shelter. Speak to her again and again, and find that she is one of these tender hearted animal lovers. She's interested in finding a good home for the dog as much as finding the right people for her.

Pace back and forth, contemplating this heart pull. Can't really afford the $150. Can't afford vet bills, and dog food. Still don't have a fence, although this dog is apparently not interested in going outside much.

Finally, after I run over my fears with Z - that we're making a decision based on emotion, and not logic - he looks in my eyes. I see what he's thinking.

"Family means that no one gets left behind."
- Lilo and Stitch
and

trusting your heart can be the smartest thing we can do - look at the heart decisions we made about our family - our children, your abortion, our falling in love. Our gut instincts - the ones that we knew in our heart to be the right answer, no matter the devil's advocate cons posed - are the ones that turned out to be right. Think about all of your huge regrets - when you applied logic to things that don't have logic involved."

So soon the dog is sitting next to Charky in the backseat of my Explorer, with the groceries in the back, sitting regally and watching us very seriously.

Despite all of my protestations in the PetCo, according to my research this morning she really is a Doberman Pinscher. A small one, albeit, but a pure-bred Dobie without a white spot to be found. Even has the traditional, show-quality tan breast marks on her chest. Very calm, and does love my kitties. Her name is Trixie, and my heart truly is bubbling over.

I pat her and bathed her and walked her and read about her online for hours. She is smart, and friendly, and playful. Still a bit timid, shakes and quakes a little easy. But there is a regal, serious pose about her that would be intimidating, if she wasn't so dang petite.

So that is my story. Frogs and Dogs. What an emotional weekend. I'm ready for bed.

*My acknowledgement of my slowly progressing Southernism.