The whole “Let me show you how much responsibility a baby is” plan is totally back-firing.
Our dachshund Thor came back into our lives in June. I struggled to find a home for this wonderful dog for two months and then gave up. He is, and always has been, bonded to me for his twelve years of existence. In the two months he was with Wendy and I, he burrowed and snuggled his way into our hearts. Giving him up to someone else would have been like removing a limb.
Every now and then, Wendy and I talk about if we want a baby and how that will change our life.
“Ha ha!” I thought. “We will bring the little dog of thunder to Spain and you will see how much of an impact such a responsibility can carry. He will change our lives. No longer will be free to do whatever we want when we want.”
Monday morning I woke up in Seville petting a lump in the blanket dreaming it was Thor.
Seville was great, except, we both missed the little dog who was staying at Lena and Stefan’s for the weekend. They fed him steak and rice and walked him an hour a day and they dropped scraps from their table as they sat outside at a restaurant.
But… That’s our job and privilege…
“I miss the little dog,” Wendy said.
So did I.
On Sunday Lena and Stefan informed us they were keeping him.
We told them we were returning on Tuesday at 7:00 p.m.
There was no little dog to be found when we got home.
“Dognappers!” I screamed.
“They’re on their way to Portugal right now!” Wendy shouted.
“Dog! Nappers!” I screamed again.
“Call the Guardia Civil!”
They showed up at eight with the little dog of thunder in tow. We were ecstatic.
This isn’t working out the way I planned…