And Then There Were Nine

sixofnine.jpg I began to accept the fact that a dog was not in my future and started making plans that had nothing to do with dogs. Sorta like what you do if you find out you can’t have kids. I perused the community college website looking for the next course I would take. I also pulled out some new swim workouts. And I gathered up drawing materials so I could get back to a little art work. I tried to stop thinking about rearranging my bedroom for a crate and where the water dish would go. I need not worry about these things anymore.

But it was only four days after I left B. the voicemail and I was still a bit raw so I decided I’d go to the GFFL website, just like I’d done an embarrassing amount of times before, to see who had come in. They put up new photos of the dogs every few weeks and it had become habit, or perhaps addiction is a better word choice, to stalk the hounds online.

It’s hard to remember the exact feeling when I landed on the homepage. I guess it was a combination of excitement and dread—like finding out you’ve been accepted into a university that should have thought twice. 

“Greyhound Friends For Life has rescued a litter of nine Greyhound puppies. Five girls and four boys were rescued Memorial Day weekend and have been taken up to Auburn for adoption.”

I called P. and then called about seventeen more people after that. I was completely struck by this coincidence. I am not religious but I’m open to listening to what’s out there. Something was definitely out there, including nine squirming Greyhounds, each needing a home.

The last call of the day was the one I made to B. at GFFL. She had been way too busy dealing with the influx of puppies and absolutely clueless really on what to tell people because they simply never had dealt with adopting out puppies that she’d not have a chance to call me.

“I can’t believe this.” I said.

B. was also a little dazed, both by the influx of pups and by how my story so oddly or beautifully, depending upon your perspective, seemed to dovetail into these circumstances.

“Well, there’s an open house next weekend if you want to come look” she told me. “They’re cute as the dickens but, well, you know, Greyhound pups are little devils.”

Devils, hellions, whatever. I would be there. P. would be there. But, more than anything, the universe would be there because, apparently, it clearly had a hand in this all along.


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