But what if I'm wrong?
Consider this: Scot and I thought for almost 2 years about getting a dog. We had long discussions about having and caring for a dog, and all that it involves. What would he do while we were at work all day? Who would look after him while we were on holidays?
And what about settling him in at home? Scot gets 7 weeks of summer holiday, but our future dog or pup would have to come home at the beginning of said holidays in order to settle in properly. What were the chances of that happening?
We knew from our life with Truman that these weren't easy questions to answer, but all responsible dog owners will ask them.
We were never going to bring a dog into our lives unless we were certain that we could care for him properly, and give him a good life; a life of love and happiness. Proper excersise and nutrition. A life with people and dog friends, not a life at home alone. We didn't think we were in that position any longer, so we gave up on the idea.
However, one day, as if out of nowhere, a plan for a dog's weekly care occurred to us. A plan that involved a variety of activities and settings. A full week of places to go, and fun stuff to do. It just popped into our heads, out of nowhere.
Three weeks later, we met Lucky, and three weeks after that, he came to live with us, on the first day of Scot's summer holidays. It's been relatively smooth sailing ever since. Well, almost smooth; let's not discuss the fate of one snake-skin wallet, and a pair of very expensive hill-walking shoes.
He's here. He's improved our life enormously. It's almost as if someone up or out there made it happen.
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