On Friday I endured another interview with that really colossal company. And as with many interviews were you meet a half-a-dozen people, it's a mixed bag. Some quite fun, some marked by effort and dry lips. So now it's a waiting game.
Not that I have much time to sit and fret. We have Willow with us this weekend, as I try to entice all I know to adopt this adorable beast. (She'll return to the vet's on Monday, but unless I can find her a suitable home, we'll have to keep her over the Thanksgiving week. Yikes!) So far, only vague interest in the "Let me talk to my husband" sort of way.
The Banker finds himself humiliated by this dog. Willow's brilliant. She's trained, understands what we tell her, and more importantly, she does it. And she puts in sharp contrast the lack of control we have over our own dogs.
The chaos we are experiencing is that weird combination of exhausted and giddy joy. This dog rocks. But we can't possibly keep her. But what if? Yes, she can jump our fence. And yes, Ginger's going ballistic, and our house is too small and beginning to reek of dog. But what if?
I hope someone takes this darling creature soon. Please, someone, please. Take this perfectly perfect dog from me before we go insane.
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