When I was little, I wanted a dog. A lot. More than anything. I wanted a dog so much and talked about one so incessantly that, when I was about five or so, my mother forbade me to use the word. Or spell it.
I had a stuffed dog, Lady (no relation to the Disney Lady; mine was a German Shepherd, not a spaniel), who had a real collar and leash (which I bought for her) who accompanied me everywhere it was appropriate to bring a dog (thus, the need for her leash). I took to pointing at her, saying, "What Lady Is," or "the same thing as Lady" when I wanted to talk about dogs during the interdiction. My mother is not as sarcastic as I am, and so did not pretend I was talking about stuffed animals.
I haven't had a dog for about 14 years now. I miss having one. We talked about getting one when the old cats died, for reasons of lease and for the old cats themselves. Pooka, once he went blind, couldn't've handled a dog (before that, he could and did. My last dog respected the hell out of him). Pix, after a year or so of trauma with the rescue chihuahuas in her household, did not have a high opinion of canines. So we knew we'd have to wait for them to go. They have gone. So.
Nous wants to wait until we know whether or not he's got any interviews for next year... which would, if he did, presumably necessitate waiting until we learned the outcome of those. It makes sense not to move with more animals than we have to. We did cross-country with two cats. It'd be easier, right, to do it with one? Right.
But still, you know, if a dog needed us... why, it's okay to have our names on the list with the rescue organizations. Shiba Inu rescue, in particular, which is fortunate to have very few dogs who need help and even fewer of those that are okay with cats. I've had a Shiba. I know what we're getting into. And it's a good sized dog for a small apartment. 101 reasons for a Shiba, but not a Shiba puppy. No puppies, of any kind. On that we're agreed.
But of course, if there are no available Shibas, then there's no harm in looking at similar breeds. Like...Jindos. They're only a little bigger. Or mixes of those breeds. I can resist (more or less) the dogs in rescue organizations, because they have homes and care. It's the sad little half-Shiba in the animal shelter some 1.5 hours north of here, in the Valley, that has my attention. There are 100 reasons why she could be a terrible choice, but I won't know about any of those if I don't call and ask...and if she is none of those deal-breaker things, then I have to make my appeals to a patient, logical, immune-to-appeals-to-pathos husband who is probably having a lot of sympathy for my mother's ban on the word dog at present. He is not good at saying no to me.
He could stop me at any time, of course, and agree to a kitten instead. Our local shelter, from whence came Louhi, has a dozen of them. Then we hit our pet-limit, and the lease constrains us from Cin's Dog Issues.
So it's his fault, right?