But the nagging for a puppy had reached a new level ….’I’ll walk it every day’, ‘I’ll feed it’, ‘I will ensure that it never poos’, ‘it won't be out my sight.’
It was the first time all three kids had agreed on anything. Apart from how much they hate us. When I announced we were going to a dog shelter, they skulked slowly from the darkness of their rooms, immediately jumped from their beds, and were downstairs at the allotted time.
The visits to the dog shelters became ‘Family Outings’. These were new events for us.I think it's what other families do. I kept arranging dog shelter visits to ‘see what type of dog we might want’, not imagining we would have to get one. We could just keep having the ‘Family Outings’ where the five of us sat in a car together driving somewhere. It was better than nothing.
It became apparent that a puppy from a shelter was going to be tricky to find. The bigger dogs needed ‘walking’. I don’t do much of that. Teenage Daughter got pulled over by a particularly strong dog, had her arm pulled out her socket, and ‘nearly died’. She’s a touch overdramatic.
But we realized a shelter dog really wasn’t an option, when Husband and two out of three children were covered in red welts, with itchy eyes and difficulty breathing. Apparently, they were having a major allergic reaction to dogs. Again, overdramatic or what.
Our dog shelter visits seemed to be over. But I needed to prolong this new ‘family time’ that we were experiencing. It was the only thing that got them to leave their rooms apart from food. And that never worked. Have you had my cooking?
So, I told them we could look at hypoallergenic dogs. Again, I had no intention of ever, ever, allowing one across our threshold. But I could keep going with the ‘looking’ phase for as long as necessary.
I found an Israeli breeder with a hypoallergenic puppy. He spoke only Russian. We arranged to meet in a park to ‘just to take a look’. A park is obviously a completely normal place for any Israeli business transaction to take place. Our WhatsApp messages (with the help of google translate) went as follows;
Him: I am here (я здесь)
Me: I am here too
Him: I am in the park (в парке)
Me: I am in the park too
Him: I am in the car park (в автостоянке)
Me: Oh. Which car park?
This was interspersed with some shouting from Husband about this being a ‘ridiculous idea’, and ‘who meets a bloody breeder in the middle of nowhere’. He wasn’t dealing well with the whole thing.
Him: I am wearing a black hoodie
Me: I am wearing an oversized sweatshirt that has seen better days, and to be honest I look a bit of a mess. In fact, I’m embarrassed to be seen like this. I came out in my slippers.
Eventually, we found him. He was wearing a black hoodie (as per his WhatsApp message) and looked rather dodgy. We sauntered over with our best swagger and greeted him hello with the only Russian phrase I know:
‘Мне нравится водка’. (Which I later found out means, ‘I like Vodka’).
Five minutes later we were all back in the car. Driving home.
With a puppy.
How it actually happened is still a blur. But I have flashbacks of something fluffy being put in my arms and the sound of wailing when they tried to take it away.
Apparently, the wailing was me.
