Little Lucky

See the little dog to the right? He's the newest member of the family. His name is Lucky, and while his medical records show him to be a mix of both small dogs and medium dogs, he's predominately a Papillon with the yelpy bark of Jack Russell. He's house-broken, neutered, and has had most of his shots. (We found out from the vet yesterday that he still needs a few more.) His personality is documented as friendly but shy, however our observation since we adopted him on Saturday have been very different. He's very much a homebody dog, likes to sleep most of the day away if there is someone in the house to keep him company, hates being alone even if the radio is left on, enjoys just following you anywhere you go, is a light and very picky eater, and right now probably depressed because he's been away from his older brother for a while now. He'll get over the depression given how much affection we are giving him between myself and Dad.

And that is where our problem is.

It only took three days, and I've become so attached to the little mutt to the point of my parental side kicking in. In fact, he's been my little distraction from school more so than anything I have mentioned before this post. It's gotten to the point where I can't help but spoil the little guy every chance I get even if it is just petting him on the head.

This may be seen as a good thing to most people. And I would agree that it is. I could use a pet like this that is easy to care for and wants nothing more but company in the same room it's in. A little responsibility could be a good thing for me and could gently push me into the right direction I need to go in so I can learn to drive, find a better job, and move out. In the last few days, Lucky has already made me feel better about myself in a way I can't really describe in words. Those of you that own a dog would probably be able to relate to this feeling and be better at describing it than myself.

But he's not my dog. I'm just taking care of him until my sister can come home to take care of him herself. This is her dog to replace Shadow, whom we are all still missing to some degree.

I don't know how the people at the Humane Society do it. They probably have pets of their own. Most of the workers if not all of them mentioned something about their own pets when we were looking at dogs to adopt. But I'm not them. I can't seem to get it into my head that this is my sister's dog given past history and not my own dog or the family dog.

It's been suggested because of my behavior as of late that maybe I should get a dog of my own. While a good idea, I don't know how well I would be able to handle that. I like Lucky's personality and the way he just sleeps in the middle of the hardwood floor where we photographed him. I like the fact that he doesn't really bark unless he doesn't get enough attention. I love the fact that he's house-broken! But what are the odds that I'll find another dog like him that is right for me? On top of that, I don't think I'm responsible enough to take care of a dog of my own, or any animal for that matter! The birds we own right now aren't really getting any mental stimulation from me and are probably going mad with boredom. I can only wonder what's going through Lucky's mind right now while I'm typing this. (He's just looking at me from across the room. I think he may need to go potty.) And yet, something this easy, something that doesn't ask very much from me in terms of supplying essential needs, may be very good for me and my mentality.

One of my co-workers over the summer said that there are many psychological cases where doctors have prescribed getting a pet for emotional support. These people can get away with bringing their dogs on places we normally can't for very understandable reasons. The last thing I want to happen on my next plane flight to wherever is for the person next to me to have a panic attack because they are unsure how their pet is doing down in the cargo bay. I should probably ask him or do some research on my own time (HA! Like I have any of that now...) about this and all the things that involve it. This could be very well something that I've needed for a long time.

Or it could be something else entirely. I don't like thinking that Lucky triggered some kind of parental drive in me, given how many crazy cat-ladies there are in the world that call them "her babies." But that's also a possibility of what's going on.

In the meantime, until I'm ready for a dog of my own, I'll be testing my own level of responsibility with Lucky while I take care of him. I'm currently trying to crate train him so that he doesn't run up to my parents' bedroom door asking to be let out in the middle of the night. Hopefully, Lucky will teach me something in process.