I’ve never made it any secret that I love animals and that I much prefer them to most people and as an adult I’ve often had the amount I’ve had living with me totalling two figures. I’ve a particular fondness for rodents and have had up to eight of them (guinea pigs, rats, gerbils and hamsters) at any given time and there is the cats (always at least one cat) of course. Now there’s a dog.
For a long time I’ve been saying that I thought that the time was right to have another dog but there were some restrictions on that, some self imposed and some imposed by outside bodies.
I’ve quite a good relationship with my housing officer having known here since I moved to Bristol and she was more thrilled at the thought of me getting yet another animal as she’s and animal lover herself. The problems was in getting a dog from the right source.
I didn’t want to go to a breeder and spend an extortionate amount of money on a puppy that came with a posh birth certificate out of a mother who was basically a cash cow and those adverts in pet shop windows don’t give any indication of the kind of home that they’re from so my only option was to adopt a rescued dog or a stray.
UK charities are constantly crying out for new homes for stray and rescued dogs but then refuse to give them to people unless they have a garden. I don’t have a garden and, at my age, I’m not likely to move to a place that has one. I’d resigned myself to longing for a dog and imagining how it would be with one.
Then I saw a sad faced dog on Facebook. A friend had shared a plea for a home for him and he was in Spain. I fell in love with his sad little face and, on the spur of the moment, emailed the charity saying that I didn’t have a garden but I had a home and heart full of love.
They got back to me and invited me to start the adoption process. I had the home visit and passed with flying colours. He had his health check and inoculations and I paid for him. There were a few hiccups with this transportation date but, finally, he arrived on Saturday night. He’s settling in well and is gradually being accepted by the cats.
I’m having to go out more because he’s here but there are long periods of the day when all he does is sleep and I can get on with the things I need to do in those times. I’m making an effort to lose weight and, judging by the amount of walking we’re doing, that’s going to happen. I’m talking to lots more people because they all want to know his story and tell me how handsome he is.
This is good for my mental health. I’m reaching out and doing something good for the little man and as he blossoms I’m going to feel better. In the bad times he’ll be there with the little trick he has of sitting beside me with his head resting on my knee looking at me with a twinkle in his eye.
Anyway I’ve adopted this dog, or has he adopted me?