I was inspired by Adrianne’s delightful post to note on my blog that we got a second dog back in March!
It all began when I came down with Puppy Fever last spring. I love our dog Charlie, but for some reason I got it into my head that I wanted to go through the experience of adopting a new pet. Apparently I wanted to hear the pitter-patter of a new animal pooping on the carpet. And I thought Charlie seemed lonely. He wanted a friend!
So I started looking around on the website of the Wake County SPCA, and it was there that I saw ‘Pajamas’, a forlorn, Dalmatian-looking white dog with grey spots. The description read something like this:
HI! MY NAME IS PAJAMAS! I’M A THREE YEAR OLD DALMATIAN/AMERICAN BULLDOG MIX. I’VE HAD A PRETTY HARD LIFE, AND I’M LOOKING FOR A FAMILY THAT CAN GIVE ME LOTS OF TENDER LOVING CARE. I THINK A HOUSEHOLD THAT ALREADY HAS A DOG WILL BE A GOOD MATCH FOR ME AND REALLY HELP ME COME OUT OF MY SHELL.
That’s too bad, I thought. Pajamas looks cute, but we’re looking for a younger, smaller dog. Still, when we dropped by the SPCA one Saturday a week or so later, “just to look”, (which I’m pretty sure is how most people end up adopting new pets) I saw Pajamas in one of the holding pens, sleeping curled up tightly around another dog. The sight warmed my heart.
“Want to look at Pajamas?” I said to Brian. “I saw her on the website.”
When a shy, sad Pajamas was brought into the room to meet us, though, I was unimpressed. She was not a puppy. She was not a smaller dog, either, like I wanted.
Instead she was bony, and she had recently had puppies, so she had those big knobbly dog nipples drooping off her ribcage. (Apparently the Wake County SPCA went down and rescued her from a SC shelter after pictures of her looking extremely emaciated were spotted online, for which we are eternally grateful. Her story up to that point remains a mystery.)
Sad to say, my initial response upon meeting Pajamas was, “Hmm, I’m not sure about this…”
And then I looked over at Brian. He had an enormous, beatific smile on his face and had opened his arms wide to enfold Pajamas.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said tenderly.
“Oh, man,” I realized. “We’re going home with Pajamas.”
Charlie Was Confused
We named her Sophie.
Other nicknames we have since invented for her include Loaf, The Monster, and White Devil.
Here are things that Sophie likes: jumping up on the bed and drooping her jowls over my face first thing in the morning, snorting and huffing around and making hilarious noises, standing utterly still and fixing me with a thousand-yard stare when I’m trying to call her, and being flatulent when we have company.
She has a goofy sense of humor and is a big clown, leaping around with abandon and throwing herself into hilarious antics whenever possible. She’s the perfect compliment to Charlie’s slightly quieter, more subtle nature, and she follows him everywhere like a delighted little sister, which is pretty much what she is.
She’s also incredibly soft, like a teddy bear, and beautiful, with big brown eyes and a graceful gait. She has perfect white toenails and little pink footpads and little white eyelashes and a droopy mouth like a sad melting shovel. Passers-by stare and smile at her; little children say, “Look at the dalmatian!” She is also impressively flexible and can curl up into a tiny, spotted ball.
Sophie Makes Herself at Home.
Sometimes she’ll lie on the floor with her enormous, curtain-like jowls drooped over her front paws, like a muffin top. Then I say, “Whatcha doing, Sophie? Are you making muffins?”
Once Charlie realized she was here to stay, he began warming up to her. Now they frolic and play together, and sometimes he licks her face when he thinks no one is looking.
They're Like Bookends!
Anyway, those are the dogs. Having 2 dogs is definitely twice as much work as having just one. But I’m so glad we found Sophie. She feels like part of the family.
After reading several articles about people who are wearing fewer items of clothing, or even going a year without buying any clothing, I was inspired to clean out my closet.
I went through my wardrobe with brutal honesty and precision, and ended up getting rid of about 1/3 of my clothes.
I don’t miss them! Because the clothes I got rid of– I hadn’t worn many of them for six months to a year. They were the clothes I pawed past each time I opened my dresser drawer looking for an outfit. The shirts that looked nice but that I needed to wear a particularly uncomfortable bra with. The skirts I never wore, but that someday I would be in the mood for. The jeans I didn’t really like anymore, but that I might like someday. Basically, they were the clothes I didn’t think I should get rid of, because they were in great shape– because I never wore them.
Now they’re gone! When I open my drawers (which also open much easier now that they are not stuffed to the brim), I like 99% of the clothes I find in them. It’s a great feeling. I have fewer clothes than ever before– but I feel as though I have more clothes than ever before: because I like all of the clothes I have. I think actually appreciate each item of clothing more now, because it’s part of a smaller, sparer collection.
The last item of clothing I bought was in late July. Although I tend to buy clothes in a thrift shop rather than retail, I still figure I’ll give myself 6 months of buying no new clothing of any kind, and see how if feels. After all, I don’t NEED any more clothes. I have plenty of clothes right now; enough to last me through at least six months; possible an entire year. If I can make it that long more’s the better.
So far, getting rid of 1/3 of my clothes is one of the most practical, satisfying things I’ve done in a long time.
I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. I realized sometime back in June that I was spending far too much of my sweet, sweet down-time staring at my laptop devouring blocks and blocks of entertaining text and pictures of cute animals and celebrities. I like my free time; I wish I had more of it. I decided that the best way to make it seem as though I had more of it would be to spend more time doing other things, like walking the dogs, reading books, calling friends, driving around. Going for runs. Inventing drinks and then drinking them. Things that, while they are not necessarily as mindlessly fun as spending hours reading Dlisted.com, are still good to do. Plus, since they’re more boring than surfing the internet, time goes slower while I’m doing them. Thus, the feeling of more time.
Plus, I’ve always been jealous of those people who say things like, ‘Oh, at home? I never go on the computer at home. I’m on the computer all day at work; why do that at home too?’ I too am on the computer all day at work. I needed to take a page from the books of those people.
So I quit cold turkey, because I knew that would be the only way to do it. Now the only leisure site I’m letting myself hang around on when I’m at home (i.e. aside from email, or the site where I check my bank balance or book airline tickets and whatnot) is the New York Times. I can easily waste some time there, but a girl’s got to have a vice or two, right?
I Heard Tell 