I want a dog. Preferably a puppy. I’m not terribly picky about the breed, but I do like large dogs. And playful ones. A large, playful puppy would be ideal.
Alas, my lifestyle isn’t well-suited for a dog. My travel schedule alone would make it difficult, not to mention the time and energy required to walk, feed, and play with a dog on those days when I am actually in London.
So what does one do when one can’t bring a dog to her? One goes to the dog. Or dogs. Lots and lots of them.
On Saturday my boyfriend and I rented a car and drove to the western outskirts of London to visit Dogs Trust, a charity that runs re-homing centers for dogs. I have sponsored a dog there for about a year, so was excited to meet little Chad and his four-legged companions.
When we arrived, we followed the giant yellow paw prints to the kennel area where the dogs were kept. We walked from dog to dog, reading their stories and watching them play. Some—like Hera and Dionysus, two adorable Dalmatians—were recent arrivals, while others—like my sponsor dog, Chad—had been there for quite awhile. Some were hyperactive—running around, barking, and jumping all over the place—while others—like Shane—slept quietly, completely immune to the noise around them.
It only took two laps through the kennel before I fell in love with Hera, the one-year-old Dalmatian that had been rescued along with 48 others in a 101 Dalmatians-like horror story.
I wanted to take the little canine goddess out for a walk, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), walks have to be booked in advance by people who are actually going to adopt a dog. Probably better that way, as I’m sure I would have grown even more attached to her if we had walked around the grounds together.
After a quick cup of tea and a wave good-bye, my boyfriend and I headed back to London. I was sad to leave Dogs Trust empty-leashed, but I am still determined to get a dog at some point. I just have to figure out a way to make life and dog go together.