Hilary Moon Murphy

In Which I Do Not Get A Dog

A black furball ran in front of my car as I drove home from the library. I stopped the car and checked if it was all right. A little black lab puppy bounded up to me, sniffing me and licking my hands as I knelt in the snow on the side of the road.

"You look okay," I said to the puppy. She was about the size of a medium cat, with big oversize paws. I guessed that she was maybe two months old. "Are you okay?"

She jumped around in the snow again, and then saw some kids across the street. She bounded off towards them, but another car was coming. I caught her as it whizzed by. The puppy wiggled in my arms, but otherwise appeared unfazed by the car. "Hey kids," I called out to them, "is this your dog?"

"No!" they called back. Then one of them shouted, "Why, you want 'im?"

No, I thought. I do not want a dog. Then I looked down at her again. She was looking up at me with those wide brown puppy eyes, and then started licking my hands again. She was a friendly little thing, but not very street wise.

"If I let you go, you are going to get yourself run over. Aren't you?" I felt along the puppy's neck. No collar.

Just then, I remembered the second full sentence that my daughter had uttered when she turned 15 months of age. She had said, "I want puppy!"

"No!" I said aloud. "I have three cats. I don't need a dog, too."

I'm not certain I convinced anyone. The puppy had laid her snowy paws on my coat. As her warm body snuggled against me, I fantasized about taking her for walks with Cassie, teaching her to play fetch, waking up to find her sleeping beside me.

Then reality hit. Our house is barely large enough for three cats and our yard is not much bigger than a postage stamp. Andy does not have a job, and will have to devote his energy to the job hunt. I am going to be working tons of extra hours at the library. There was no time or space in our lives for a dog right now. Especially not a full grown black lab, as this puppy would be in only a few months.

She licked me again. Collar, or no collar, this puppy belonged to someone. She couldn't have been on the street long and stay this trusting. "C'mon," I said, "let's get you home."

I started knocking on doors. As I did, it occured to me that this was probably not a safe neighborhood for a woman to be walking alone at night. Most of the people here lived below poverty level. The library had been forced to take out its pay phone to keep the drug dealers from using it all the time.

I kept knocking. I wondered if anyone would ever say of me what I had thought of the puppy earlier -- a friendly little thing, but no street sense.

"Perdón. ¿Es este su perrito?" Excuse me, I'd say. Is this your puppy?

The woman at the third house said, yes, and then wondered aloud how the puppy had gotten out. Just then there was a crash behind her and three little kids looked sheepishly up at us. "Never mind," she told me.

They thanked me. I drove home puppyless.

That night Cassie and I played with all her plush toy dogs. As my daughter made each one bound up to me with a loud, "Woof! Woof! Woof!", I felt relieved and regretful all at once.

Thank you to everyone who has written me notes of support about Andy's job hunting process. His first interview went well, but we won't know for another two weeks whether he got the job or not. Meanwhile we are continuing to send out resumes and cover letters.

Those of you who enjoyed reading part of Karina's letter in my entry, Taking Action, can now read the whole thing plus footnotes and other interesting observations, in Karina's A Letter to Hilary. If you have been interested in watching my whole angst-ridden struggle with pacifism, it's worth seeing all that she has to say.

I've also started my first letter to Bush. I don't know why I'm fussing over it so much -- so long as the opinions are clearly stated, the style of it shouldn't matter. But it does. Nag me to get the blasted thing in the mail, will you?

I've been fighting waves of depression, fear and hopelessness for the last three days, but I feel a funny sense of inner peace right now. Maybe getting one small puppy home was what I needed to feel centered again.

Hmm