Who's A Good Boy?

This weekend, we look for a dog.
This may seem contraindicated, given all that's happened the past month. With a smaller paycheck and financial upheaval a certainty, the expense of a pet seems a little...well...impractical. The adoption fee, which covers surgical sterilization at most shelters, runs around $100. Then you have the food, the bedding, the chew toys.
Nonetheless, when Saturday afternoon rolls around we are packing ourselves into the van and heading for Animal Haven, Wayside Waifs and wherever else we think of. Because We. Need. A. Dog.
Actually, finding a pooch has been on our to-do list for a while now. After Speedy, our "shepherd mix" died of old age and cancer, we grieved for a while. But when the second Christmas without her came and went last year, family members began to drop hints. "We'll wait for cold season to be over," we said. It would be easier on us for the house training.
And now it's April and we have a choice. Label ourselves as too scared and poor for a pet. Or thumb our noses at the Cosmic Joke God and take the risk. Which would be the more optimistic?
Besides, pets are supposed to help improve your mood if you're depression-prone. It says so here, on Self Growth.com. I know the cats improve our mood tremendously when they mess up their pans and play loudly at night. (But all is forgiven when we find out their "play" was really some mouse killin'.)
Speedy, too, could be a happiness enhancer when she wasn't destroying furniture and windows. She amused us by running the "figure 8" around the dining room and coffee tables, and by grabbing the toothpaste off the bathroom vanity and running through the house. Look! I have toothpaste! Chase me!
The only qualm I have about it has to do with what I found on the Internet when I typed in "dogs and depression." Oops. It turns out that dogs may themselves get depressed. So it looks like my family could actually bring the dog down. I sure hope the shelters don't give us any psychological tests.
As for our search, we do not plan to take as long as the Obamas. None of us has any allergies. If possible, we'd like a talking dog. One who could tell us about his/her day. Like one of these posted on YouTube.



Or maybe just a dog who can do funny things to make us laugh, like these:



Ah well. Here's Patti Page with the inevitable song. I love how it gets all Vegassy at the very end.