Introspective, Cold, and Thirsty.

I woke up this morning at 5:08 with a desperate need to have a drink of water, empty my bladder, and put on a sweater. I managed to disengage myself from my wee babe (er, 12 month old) after about 20 minutes, and now I am sitting here with a fuzzy shawl and cup of water all by myself, in my quiet house. I have another 10 minutes before I need to wake my oldest. I'm feeling very introspective this morning, thinking about what I want from today, this weekend, this year. On a broad, not at all goal specific train of thought, what do I want from life?

What do I want from life? I want to do things I love, and be around people I love. I want to read good books. I want to go out for coffee with friends. I want to watch movies with my husband. I want to talk with my kids, play games with them, and discuss their thoughts on the world. I want to walk in the woods, go hiking and camping. I want to create cool things with my hands. I want to listen to music that's too loud and dance like nobody is watching. I want to keep it all in perspective.

I also want a dog. This is crazy, of course. I have five children, my life is rather full. But I have been longing for a dog. I always had a dog growing up. Bandit was my first dog that I can remember. I think I was four when I asking my Grandpa to get me a dog. And guess what? He actually did. I think my mom was mad, but I don't know. My dad let me keep the crazy animal. There were other dogs, but my next dog was Lady. I loved her so much. She was a mutt, German Shepard and Rottie, and who knows what else. I left her with my sister and parents when I moved out because I couldn't take care of her. A few years ago we were visiting and she snapped at one of my kids. She was arthritic and in pain and one of the kids stepped on her. She didn't even bite, but that was it- My dad knew it was time. I still miss her.

About four and a half years ago we bought a dog for our own family. I was pregnant with our fourth child at the time. I saw an ad in the paper for a poodle mix, and decided to call on it. We went to visit and fell in love with those sweet puppies. In retrospect, we should never have looked at puppies from a newspaper ad. I am pretty sure that they were puppy mill dogs, and I am crushed that I contributed to that. We took Fuddzy home and loved him like crazy. We crate trained him and leash trained him. We did everything we could to socialize him to people and other dogs. We did puppy playtime and puppy kindergarten. Unfortunately, he seemed to have some doggie aggression and resource guarding issues, so we hired a trainer one-on-one for a few sessions. When we moved, the issues got worse. We hired another trainer, and started working more aggressively on his issues. We consulted his vet, and a friend who is a vet, and looked for solutions online.

We finally had to have Fuddzy put down. I was devastated. He bite my daughter and broke the skin. Can I just say again, I was devastated? I said I would never have another dog. I felt like a murderer. I loved Fuddz and wanted what was best for him. I'm still not sure that I did the right thing. I wonder, should I have rehomed him? We talked about it for weeks. Ultimately, we went to the vet because we just couldn't bring ourselves to take the risk that he might hurt another child, a smaller child.

I still grieve over that decision. Yet I find myself longing for another dog to share our lives with. I want my children to grow up with a dog. I want a companion to walk with and to sit with. I want a Fur-baby to hang out with that is going to stick around to cheer me up when I'm down for the next 10 or 20 years. I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up.