Today was my last day of Mama. She's going back to the Humane Society tomorrow, and we three (minus the Daddy) are roadtripping down to Texas for my sister's wedding. I may take her back in a week, I may not.
She has been my shadow this last while, growing more and more attached. And me to her. It is both good and bad. Good to feel such deep dog love, bad to let it go. If we were 2 years down the road, if we were back home, if she loved my husband a little more (and he her), I would keep her. I would deal with her glitches and teach her to sit. I would buy her stuffies from the thrift store so that she doesn't chew the ears off of those loved by my kids. I would find a runner to save the wood floor from getting all scratched up, and I would find a way to go to yoga class during the day without worrying about her overheating in the car or destroying my house.
I worry that she won't find a good home. That she will but they won't get her and they'll send her back. I worry that she will be alone in a kennel, bored and lonely, waiting for me to come and pick her up. And I worry that I never will.
She is number 9. She is my favourite of them all.