speaking of dogs

I think I mentioned we're in the market for a dog.

And I, Sex, have fallen in love with a dog.

Charlie-dog.

He's sweet. He's wonderful with my kids. He is strong and healthy, but doesn't abuse his strength. He has wonderful manners. He plays and acts silly and brings his toy back to my son to throw and he cocks his head at my daughter, and then he lays down with his head between his paws for a rest. He's not got that silly shape of a German Shepherd. He's shepherd in the front but lab or something else in the rear. He's beautifully well-formed, the perfect weight.

He's, in short, wonderful. He would be overjoyed to go for a car ride to his new house.

He's also a hemophiliac.

Thought that was just for inbred Victorian royalty, eh? Well, it's not. In dogs, hemophilia dates back to one German Shephard: Canto von der Wienerau. At stud early in the last century, he produced hundreds of offspring. All of the females were carriers and thus spread the disease well through the German Shephard breed. Dogs with severe cases don't live to adulthood.

Charlie is a mild case. So a cut paw could be nasty, but manageable. We likely wouldn't put him through surgery. An injection could cause a contusion. We've looked at doggie-boots at the pet store, no lie, cuz they are cheaper than the starting price of one thousand dollars for a blood transfusion.

My head tells me not to bring this dog into our lives. There are lots of other wonderful dogs out there. And it might not happen anyway, because we are second on his waiting list, and my husband has yet to meet him.

But my heart...

Well, my heart is not cooperating with my head.

I've been long regarded as a "cat" person because I had a cat since college. Actually, I grew up with a great dog, Skipper, who was damn smart and a very cool dog. He was named Skipper because we came from a sailing family. Skipper liked neither boats nor the water (you never saw a sadder face in a bathtub), but it didn't matter. He was clairvoyant in the way some dogs are. People used to tell me that my dog was like a person. Skip had that sort of way about him. He was savvy.

So I'm not actually a cat person, I'm more a latent dog person. It was just more convenient to have a cat in college and fifteen years later, may she rest in peace, I'm still glad we had Sophie. It was saddest for me when she died because not only was she my cat, but I knew she was likely the last cat I'd ever own.

Dog people also think I'm not a dog person because I don't like ill-mannered dogs. I love dogs. I just hate when people don't teach them manners, and most people don't go the distance with it. That's all.

It always pained Skipper to see me interract with other dogs. I've been to visit Charlie three times in as many days and he gets more excited to see me each time. Today when I went to the next cage to see another dog, he barked at me.

"HEY! Come back here!" Charlie said.

I'm coming, Charlie. I'm coming.

I think.