Sassy and I were supposed to be in her bed reading good-night books. Point of fact, it did start out that way. The book she chose was about Uno, the first and possibly only, beagle whowon Best in Show at The Westminster Dog Show. I was reading my own book on my iPad, William Shakespeare the World as Stage, by one of my all time favorite authors, Bill Bryson, when she asked me to Google something about Uno. One search led to another and before you know it we were watching puppy videos on YouTube.
That was a really bad idea. A person with a clinical case of puppitis has no business watching puppy videos on YouTube. In fact, I wish they wouldn’t even let me on that stupid site. If YouTube read my blog they’d know it was a bad idea just as you all do.
Nevertheless, we watched a few beagles run around and growl adorably. Then a couple of rottweilers babies and a whole passel of bulldogs. I dimly recall there being super fuzzy golden retrievers, too. And then things really went to hell.
I typed in “Newfoundland Puppies”. Sigh. God, I was so stupid. My Sweet Sophie was a Newfoundland. She’s been gone about three years now and, boy, do we miss her. I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to control myself if a Newfoundland puppy should just happen to appear in the newspaper. Or, God forbid, if I should happen to see one wandering alone in the street. I’d consider selling a kidney to buy one from a breeder if one should happen to be close by.
I’m certain that no one has ever died from puppyitis. No one’s heart has ever broken from pining away for a bouncy, yippy, chewing machine. No one has met the true death because there was no sweet smelling, gently snoring, warm fuzzy ball of fur to snuggle with at night.
But there’s always a first time.