The Furry Muse, Pt. 2

After losing our beloved greyhound this past September, we finally decided we were ready to adopt a second dog. Rather than buy a purebred puppy, we prefer to give a down on its luck dog a second chance. We looked at a couple of different shelters (the saddest places I know) before deciding on Jewel, a medium-sized Boston terrier mix. She's one-and-a-half, loving (covers your face in Jewel drool if you don't watch out), gentle, playful, and thank the Lord housebroken -- and best of all, our other dog is thrilled to have a new buddy. Plus, Jewel's already learned that it's siesta time when Mom's on the computer. All in all, I think she was a great choice to fill the vacant auxillary muse position.

Jewel's also a good reminder to spay or neuter early. Like our younger mutt, Zippy, she was dropped off at the shelter after having an unwanted litter at less than 1 1/2. With so many animals put down every year for want of homes, it's inexcusable to allow random breeding to take place. (Except maybe in certain passages of our books... :)

What's also ticked me off (beside the zillions of tiny puppies and the plethora of huge dogs and adult cats that no one wants) is the profusion of tiny, poorly-bred, and sadly-neurotic Chihuahuas I've seen up for adoption. I'm blaming Paris Hilton, who thoughtlessly made the micro-foo foo dog a fashion accessory for countless young women -- a little, living doll to be dressed in matching outfits. The trouble is, when the fad passes, a cuter, tinier pup shows up on the horizon, or the dog turns out to be snappish, perpetually frightened, and difficult to housebreak (tiny bladders mean lots of trips out), these poor little creatures are often dumped, and shelter life scares them to death.

Since this isn't an animal rights blog (maybe animal writes, at times), I'll get off my soapbox. I just needed to get that off my chest.