decisions

So I've always considered myself a dog person. I grew up with dogs. I can't see a dog on the street without gushing (unless it's a particularly horrid-looking dog). When I went away to university, my parents made sure my boyfriend was with me when they told me that the family pet died so that I would be "okay".



When I graduated and moved to Toronto for my first "real" job, I was living in a basement apt about a 20 min subway ride from Yonge and Bloor (I thought it was close at the time!). After four months in the city, a new intense job, I wound up with bronchitis and off work for almost a month. How lonely!



I found myself at the Humane Society browsing the cat section. What?! Me! with cats! Knowing that my lifestyle did not suit a pooch, it was the best fit. I walked out with a beautiful calico of 6 months. Her pink and peach colours have faded but her attitude has not. Feisty, scary at times but never more happy than to curl up in the crook of my arm as I fall asleep. She was my first, but (and to her chagrin) not my last.



I've inherited two other felines from past relationships who felt the cats just couldn't bear to be separated. Finnegan is a beautiful brown tabby with the most distinct black stripes. He loves to headbutt at every chance. When he escaped from my last apt thrown a ripped screen (the other 2 just weren't daring enough), I had reports of a cat butting heads with neighbourhood dogs outside the local hardware store on the busiest street. He's the bravest of the bunch and has finally grown into his head.



Monk is a gorgeous Siamese who's brother died over a year ago of kidney failure. He and Finni are good buds curling up together at the drop of a hat. He, too, loves to snuggle with me when I sleep so sometimes it's a competition for space.



I did have another cat, Kelly, a wild-eyed Tortoiseshell adopted on a whim from the THS. Not sure what I was thinking - I already had Sydney and Finnegan but i fell in love with her upon sight. I called her the soul-less cat because she just loved affection but you never really felt a bond. Not sure where she came from but being abandoned as a wee one can't be good for your confidence.

Anyhow, that's been my brood for the last while.

Until two weeks ago.

I've been wanting and thinking about getting a dog. I kept saying "when I have the life for one"...and in February, I got that life. A 9-5ish job, good pay and less responsibility - the makings of a good dog home. So after much research, visits to shelters, I decided on a pooch from a local rescue shelter.

Peanut. Cute as a button. Spaniel mix. Lots of issues. Food aggression. General aggression. Problem with his hind legs. I don't quite know how new parents cope. It's only two weeks and I've lost tonnes of sleep, weight (from walking two hours every day), figuring out the right food for upsets stomachs, introducing a new member to the pack and figuring out who is top dog. Sometimes it feels like I can't cope with this new being, other times I don't know where he's been all my life.

I had one session with a great trainer. She warned me that this could be a costly venture. Between the training and medical bills, it could be thousands. Not to mention, not being able to curb the food aggression to the point of having the dog be trustworthy around little kids....it could end worse than just being out some cash.

Her recommendations: if I want to have kids in the next ten years, I should seriously consider the atmosphere at home. Lots of time and energy watching every move the dog makes, the kids around the dog...other people's kids....people on the street. Is it really worth it.

Hard decision to make for one as sentimental as me. Plus, who the hell knows if I'm going to have kids. I'm still single with no prospects on the horizon (despite some passive online glances) and the clock is winding down on the baby-producing years....As for other people's kids...how often am I with them? Once a week? Less? Is that enough time on which to base this decision.

As you can see I'm torn. I've decided to take him with me on vacation, make an appointment with my dad's vet and see what she says. If I don't take my time coming to this answer, I know I'll regret it.