If Only I Could Have a Puppy...

There was a song I used to listen to as a girl. The artist was Harry Nielsen. It was titled, "The Puppy Song." I used to sing it over and over and over again in my head, hoping my wish would come true.

If only I could have a puppy. I'd call myself so very lucky.

Just to have some company. To share a cup of tea with me.

I'd take my puppy everywhere. Lalalala I wouldn't care.

We'd stay away from crowds and signs that said, "No Dogs Allowed"

For the longest time, the rule at our house has been "No Dogs Allowed." When we were first married, Phillip and I tried our hand at puppy parenting. Twice. First with Jackson, our black lab. He died an untimely death in someone's canal. When I was ready to invest my heart again, we got Mackay. He was amazing. He could catch five golf balls in his mouth at a time. He could sit and fetch and point and roll over. He got hit by a car and had to have something like 70 stitches and he still survived. Until we moved and he mysteriously disappeared at our friends farm. Shortly thereafter, real children started arriving and the puppy parenting was put on hold for the real thing. Until we moved to Utah. Then we decided our girls needed a puppy. So we went to the pound and fell in love with a golden sharpei-bulldog mix. She became Mercedes Gold--Sadie for short. We brought her home and once again, invested our hearts. She chewed all the bark off of our apple tree and caused Phillip to question his decision to have a dog. Apparently, it wasn't meant to be. One month later I had the unfortunate and heart-wrenching opportunity of choosing to put her down because she had contracted a serious case of parvo. I'll never forget the look in her eyes as the girls and I petted her one last time, said our goodbyes and listened to the door close behind us in the vet's office. We drove all the way home to Lehi in a torrential downpour and our tears were not unequaled with the rain that was falling outside our windows. I vowed that day that I would NEVER, EVER love a dog again. We switched to cats and that has worked out pleasantly. Until Eli was born. The minute we brought him home from the hospital, the girls began saying, "When he's three, we'll get him a puppy." And then it became, "When he's four, we'll get him a puppy." They had dreams and wishes that they hoped would come true and a new brother was just the excuse to start asking again. Over the past 18 months my heart has been softening. With my girls gone I've missed the companionship of another female in the house. I imagined getting a cute little fuzzy-haired dog that would wear bows in it's ears. It would ride around in my purse and I was going to call her Scarlett. Well, the stars weren't quite in my favor, and somehow they aligned towards a male dog--dachsund by breed--who has come to be knows as Griffyndor. Griffin for short. Or Griff. Or Griffiti. Or, as rightly deserved, The Little Prince. Eight years later, the dreams and wishes of the sisters for their brother to get a dog has been fulfilled. One sister has yet to meet the newest member, but is anxiously awaiting that day. The other sister battles daily with the brother as to who will hold the dog the most. I just sit back and take it all in. One chewed up shoe at a time.

But dreams are nothing more than wishes
And a wish is just a dream you wish to come true.

Our wish has come true. A dog has captured my heart. Again. And, he even fits in my purse.