Break my heart, why don't ya?
The hubs and I just spent the last hour scrolling through dozens of adoptable pets on petfinder.
For the last six months or so, Bill has been bringing up babies. Texting me baby names while he's on break at work, smiling at children in restaurants, generally talking about how he'd like to make one. And I have to keep shooting him down. Not that I don't also want a conglomeration of our perfect selves hanging out for the rest of forever, I just know we're not ready in so many ways. I've always heard that pets (whether dogs, cats, lizards or gerbils, whathaveyou) are kind of baby training wheels. Playing the game on easy mode.
So, for his 29th birthday, I'm thinking about adopting a dog. The problem is deciding on the perfect dog. Bill grew up with pitbulls; I had lap dogs. My view is to start off compact but he wants to jump into the ones who leave mondo piles in the yard. Then there's the incredibly manipulative descriptions they give these dogs. If you tell me this dog was hit by a car after escaping a hoarder and cries itself to sleep while doing tricks for belly rubs, of course I'm going to want to adopt them all. And the deaf ones break my heart, like seriously tearing up.
It's impossible! We'll just become crazy dog people with a million furbabies.
