Friday, August 1, 2008


A cat person, I am surprised to find that I feel I need another dog. We bought our Yorkie Zoe on our honeymoon 14.5 years ago. She was the size of a small stuffed animal and she lived the high life as our only child who lived with us full time. She had little outfits -- Halloween costume, raincoat, sweaters for cold winter days. The beginning of the end for Princess Zoe came when I was pregnant with Colin. Up to that time, Zoe slept on the bed with me, but there came a point in my pregnancy when I could no longer bend down and pick her up. Too short to jump onto the bed, she had to make due on the floor. Since the arrival of Colin and now Baby D, Zoe, I think, prefers to sleep at the dog kennel where she is loved and doted over by the paid staff.

So what has come over me that I feel we need another dog? Does poor Zoe need new blood around the house in her twilight years? Isn't she enduring enough with Baby D's desire to pick her up and transport her across the room?

I found my new dog on, a place where animal shelters and rescues display their dogs for adoption. She is a bichon frise named Fluffy, of all things. She needs cataract surgery and is not house trained.

Just what I need.