Did I tell you we've been looking to adopt a rescue dog?
I don't think I've mentioned it.
Yes. So last Saturday we hauled our butts down past Richmond to meet a Mastiff/Bulldog mix. The one pictured here. He's 70 lbs at approximately 9 months old. We adored him.
Sadly, it doesn't look like he's going to be our dog, because there are a couple people who put in applications ahead of us and seem like good fits. I've asked them to consider us if somehow those people don't work out.
We need a dog who wants to be walked around the block and then wants to lay around and be petted and prodded and loved on by an 18-month old.
Mastiffs fit the bill perfectly. Now, Mastiffs are Nick-sized dogs - which is why he wants one. They're more like small ponies. But sweet, gentle, and lazy. So we figure a Mastiff mixed with a smaller dog could be perfect.
I told my beautiful, elegant friend Michele about Mastiff Quest 2011, and she got the kind of look on her face that you get when you smell something terrible. She waved her arms in front of her, all nonononono!
She said, essentially, "What is wrong with you? Why are you adding more poop to your life?"
If you didn't know her, you wouldn't think Michele would talk about poop. She's too pretty and too well put together. But she can talk poop with the best of us, and has a mouth like a sailor.
So. She went on:
"Why would you do this? Do you know how big his poops are going to be? You already have a baby whose poop you clean. You maybe even occasionally wipe your husband's poop off the toilet seat. And now! Now you want to add an enormous dog with enormous poop! Poop that will be your responsibility!"
She gesticulated wildly. She got a little shrill.
"I didn't think about it that way."
(When you add it all up, it is a LOT of poop...)
"Lisa. Think about the poop! It's all about the poop."
We're scheduled to meet another enormous pooper this coming Saturday.