Meet Bob. My new dog.
He’s a pound puppy. Well, actually a pound old man; he’s around 8 years old. And he’s sweet as can be.
I know I said I was going to wait at least a year but…
I sort of am still waiting.
Bob is a dear friend’s dog that we’re dog-sitting for. Her usual standby wasn’t available and she had a terrible experience trying someone on Rover.com. (Not all Rover experiences turn out poorly. You can find good dog people there. But you’ll have to be willing to sift through many who mean well but don’t really understand dog behavior.)
She had mentioned to Andrew about the unfortunate experience Bob had at the test-out person’s house and was distraught.
When Andrew told me, the solution was simple. We would watch Bob for her. Our house is still perfectly set up for dogs.
She wept with relief and gratefulness. She is still thanking me weeks later.
I understand. What I would have given to have found a safe, worry-free place with a knowledgable dog person to watch our crew so that Andrew and I could have gone away together.
But for now, I consider this a two-fer solution. I get to help out a friend. And I get to fill myself back up on dog love for the time I have him.
Not a bad stop-gap until I’m ready to really bring a new dog into my life.