Explanation Please?

Okay, so my previous post sounded so pitiful, yet on the other hand... so selfish. I tend to agree.

Let me explain myself so I don't come across as a big 'ol loser!

We have been going back and forth on the whole dog issue for over a year. September 2008, I decided I wanted a dog, but then decided against it because I was dealing with the breast issues and biopsies that I didn't think I could handle one more thing on my already fragile plate. Then in January 2009, I decided to revisit the puppy conversation, but soon after, I was hired to work at my church and that shelved the puppy talk for a while.

Summer rolls around and our babysitter would bring her adorable family pets over to our house to let the girls play with them and I got excited about getting a dog again. And in August, we all know about the shelter dog incident... (Sigh...)

Well, then I quit my job and I told Randy that since I would have more time at home, I thought getting a puppy would be ideal for us. The girls were a year older too, which I think made a huge difference. So, the hunt began.

I didn't want to spend a fortune on a dog, so I looked on Craigslist for a puppy. Found one and honestly, he was as cute as can be. He had a great personality and was very playful and curious.

As soon as we got home though, I knew we'd have a problem. He was too tiny. He was all over the place and under our feet as we walked. It was nerve wreaking!

I also think he was just too young for us. He was only 9 weeks old. In addition, he must of had a bladder the size of a peanut because he peed about 6 times in just the first two hours - and not just outside. And, don't get me started on the pooping!

If you were not holding him, he whined. He you put him in his crate, he yelped. If you left the room, he cried. I honestly thought that an infant sling would have been perfect for him. Nighttime was more like a nightmare. I don't think he slept more than 2 hours the entire night. I should know... I was up with him, taking him out to pee, cleaning up after his accidents in his crate and trying to stop the incessant whining/yelping/crying.

The long of the short of it was that honestly... I did not think I would be able to care for this puppy without losing my religion. And, I know myself well enough to know that hanging on the puppy for a few weeks to see how things ironed out would only prolong the inevitable and secure the fact that the girls would be super attached and be devastated if we had to find another home for him.

So, I made the best decision for all of us. I get to keep my sanity and the girls were totally okay with me finding a new home for "Charlie". The lady who adopted him was very sweet and super excited to get him. And, she seemed super patient... something I apparently lack a lot of.

I think I need a hobby. One that doesn't involve live animals.