The Dog Dilemma

I love dogs. I have five of them in my life right now: my parents’ two dogs (Shamus and Butch), and the three living with my sister and her family (Willow, Mac, and Toby). I love each one of them for different reasons. My parents’ dogs are basically timeshare pets for me; my parents travel quite a bit, so the time their dogs end up staying with me totals up to over a month each year. Shamus and Butch feel just as comfortable in my house as they do at their own home, and I always enjoy having them stay here.

I had my own dog once. Spencer. One of the friendliest and best-looking Westies ever; even his vet was struck by how unusually symmetrical his face was. He was my pal, my partner, my playmate, and my family. The first time his puppy self hopped up on the couch, awkwardly crawled the length of my body, and snuggled on my chest to fall asleep was a moment I still remember with perfect clarity. His death was prolonged and horrible, and it broke me in half. As I write this, I can feel tears building around the edges of my eyes as images from his last days pass through my head. That was six years ago, and I still miss him.

Every so often, somebody will encourage me to get a new dog. I appreciate the sentiment, even if I don’t always like hearing it; these are dog owners themselves, and I know they’d like to see me share in the same kind of happiness they have. The problem, however, is that me deciding to get a dog and then just spontaneously doing it isn’t ever going to happen. My head simply does not work that way.

I’ve always assumed that one of these days I’d get a new dog, or maybe even two. Dogs have been a part of my life from my earliest memories. As for getting a new one (or two), it all depends on sorting out a lot of things.

I know I likely wouldn’t get a puppy. Sure, puppies are adorable and playful, and raising a dog from a puppy, like I did with Spencer, likely means you’ll have that dog in your life for a good long time. It gives your relationship a true origin story, defined by all the puppy moments that come with the raising. The problem is that regardless of how cute puppies are on all the internet videos, they bring a lot of work and frustration with them. And it’s no small thing that the only sign of dog allergy I ever show seems to come from puppy saliva, which has been known to gift me with occasional bouts of inflamed eyes and hive eruptions on my arms and legs. So I know when the time comes, I’ll likely adopt someone older — probably a younger adult, two or three or four years old. I’d want a younger one so I’d have a better chance to spend more time with him. I’d hope to get the kind of time I was supposed to have with Spencer, since, according to averages, he should have been around much longer than he was.

And yeah. When I mentioned adopting, I said “him.” I’ve at least settled on that much.

If I was going to get a dog, I know I’d want to be as present as possible, and when it’s just me here, that’s not always so simple. First of all, I know how completely messed up it would be to think, “I really can’t get a dog because then I wouldn’t be able to go to school too early and stay too late, and spend even more unpaid time away from home doing my largely thankless job.” However, the simple truth is I have a job that eats up a lot of time to be done well, and I don’t like the idea of dogs home alone and waiting for me. I always feel a little stressed when Shamus and Butch stay here, because I want to make sure I’m out the door at the end of the school day as soon as possible, so I can let them out and they can spend time with me. I know someone who fosters dogs, and I’ve heard her mention that in several cases someone like me — a single adult without any kids — wouldn’t always be seen as a strong candidate by the people that make decisions about placing dogs in “forever homes.” I wouldn’t be enough family. To be honest, that idea feeds into one of my lingering insecurities about the life I gave Spencer: How much happier would he have been if he’d had more of a family than just the evenings, weekends, and summers he had with me? 

Which leads to the question: Why not get two dogs so they can keep each other company? I think I’d be just as likely to adopt two as one, for that reason; maybe not at the same time, but eventually. I see what buddies Shamus and Butch are. I see the unusual pack that Mac and Toby and Willow have formed. I remember how happy Spencer was when my sister Erin’s dog Milo was around. So to get a dog and not give it a pack, just so I have someone to keep me company at my convenience? It feels selfish. I know in most cases living in my house would be a much better life for a lot of the dogs waiting to be adopted, but I still have a hard time with the idea.

After having so many years of life with a dog, I’ve gotten used to not having the responsibilities that come with caring for one. I know that if/when another one comes along the routines will reassert themselves and evolve into a different normal, just like they did when I first brought Spencer home. I’d accommodate the shedding, if that was part of the package. I’d know as much about the breed as I could, and would be vigilant (if not obsessive) about taking care of its health. I’d go back to the same things I did with Spencer to fix the spotty grass in the backyard to keep the association off my back. And really, a shake-up in a routine life isn’t always necessarily a bad thing, especially when that routine can occasionally feel like a rut. Having a dog would give me someone to love and care for, someone I’d be responsible for that would add purpose to my life.

But then, what if I just waited until I retired? It’s not impossible that I could have something of a family by then, and I certainly wouldn’t have to worry about how many waking hours I had to put in at school anymore. That could be the best plan.

Back right around the beginning of 2017, I had all but decided this was probably going to be the year I’d finally get a dog. Two months later I feel myself hedging. That makes me think that as much as I like having dogs around, I can’t say for sure I’m ready yet. But maybe there are always going to be reasons to talk myself out of being ready until I finally make the decision. 

I still have time to think about it, though. One thing I know for sure is the only time I would ever consider bringing a dog into my house would be at the start of summer break, when we’d have time to adapt to each other’s needs and routines, and bond before I had to start back to school in the fall. Summer break is still three months away, so I have time to struggle with my decision. 

Although…there’d have to be some research and planning and organizing to find and line up the right adoption, so it’s not like I could wait until the last day of school to make up my mind.

I honestly don’t know what to do.