Nov 22, 2024 4 min read

This house of mine needs a dog.

It needs some furry, soft thing to lurk at the bedside every morning. It needs the tapping of nails on the hardwood floor and the shadow of a tail flapping about as the pup chases the sunspots across the floor for a nap. This house needs a reason for me to bundle up on the snowy mornings to walk down to the dog park.

Yes, I’m ready for my next dog. My elderly and slightly nutty Sheltie, Smoothie, has been gone almost three months, and I miss him.

I’ve begun making the rounds of humane shelters, wishing to adopt rather than to buy. I’ve perused websites, staring into the eyes of available dogs. A smallish adult dog would be best, and I’m open to taking an elderly one.

Foolishly, I went into the process expecting that adopting would be easy. We hear about how shelters are filled with dogs and cats that need homes. According to the ASPCA, more than six million dogs and cats are awaiting homes in shelters; as many as 920,000 of them are euthanized each year.

The application process is rigorous: It’s best if I own my home, but if I rent, I’d need my landlord’s written approval; have I owned a pet before and who was my veterinarian? What do I do for a living? Where will the dog be kept inside the home? How many hours per day will the dog be alone? And of course, how old am I? Shelters seem to be especially careful when placing dogs with senior citizens.

This is understandable, as shelters must be confident that an adoption is the right fit, for both the pet and for the owner. Many, if not all, shelter dogs have experienced loss, neglect, abandonment or other trauma; they come with unique needs that require special understanding and care. It’s necessary due diligence on the part of the shelters, but it’s been frustrating.

Last weekend I visited a humane society with many dogs. I’d been looking at the website and zeroed in on a couple of adult Chihuahua mixes that I thought would be a good match for me.

Walking in, I passed rows and rows of pit bull terrier mixes, energetic dogs that howled and barked as they flung their sizable bodies at the fronts of their cages. (My son’s fiancée is a veterinary tech who says pit mixes are among the sweetest, most gentle dogs, but they tend to get a bad rap, and I’d imagine they don’t “show well” in the shelter.) That’s too much dog for me at this point.

I entered a quieter room with a dozen cages, each housing a small Chihuahua mix. A few were asleep, some were yipping a bit and one cowered in a corner, trembling.

“How about that one?” I asked the shelter worker.

“She needs a fenced-in yard.”

The worker said most of the smaller dogs came from puppy mills and are known to run away. The dog I’d asked about had been adopted from that shelter recently and ran off when the new owner opened his car door. Because the dog was microchipped, she was found and returned to the shelter to try again.

I don’t have a fenced yard, nor will my HOA allow one. Sadly, that disqualified me from all of the small dogs there, including that sweet frightened one.

I’m learning that finding a dog may be a long process, but I’m not giving up. Somewhere out there is a dog that wants to take cold morning walks with me and then nap all day in the sun. Maybe that will be a spry 5-year-old.

Or even a little old man like Smoothie.