I've decided to get a puppy. My family members probably think I'm mad. After all, I had a perfectly wonderful dog, Dudley the magnificent (in the photo) who I loved to bits, and I sent him away to live with another family shortly after my diagnosis. The thing was, I was fully prepared to be crippled and in a wheelchair after a year and didn't want to subject a poor wee doggums to the boring life that would mean. Dudley went off to a family of five, with three cheerful little girls who promptly dressed him up in doll dresses and hats and who he went to happily, used to the pell mell of a herd of Bichons in his parental home. My quiet little place must've bored the poor fellow, so I'm glad he's put his paws down in a place where he will be loved to excess. (and which has a fenced yard!)
This puppy is a vote of confidence - in me, in my ability to deal with this disease, in my ability to live alone and succeed at it. He's sweet and roly poly and all that, but his genes are smart, and I know if I work at it I can train him to be a great companion animal. He will make me walk even when I don't really feel like it, he will make me laugh also. I need this, more than I can admit. Living alone with an unpredictable chronic disease is lonely at times. It's not that I want a person around, though, necessarily, though I like that. Sometimes I just need a mute companion who will live and breathe around me and care for me.
I do hate the unpredictableness of this disease and wonder about taking on a new responsibility - but then I have hope that the progress will be slow, that I will have time to truly enjoy my new little buddy, exploring new places through dog's eyes. I have hope.