I am 100% bummed out over the puppy search. For the second time this week, I allowed a chosen puppy to be adopted by someone other than myself. Kyle and I found a wonderful puppy yesterday at the pound in the country.



She was named Angie, which we sang like the Rolling Stones’ tune, and she was a labrador mix. She hated to get her pen dirty, which was very promising. She was also spirited, brave, friendly, and — most importantly — loved to be held like a baby. But since I’m a world-class chump, I wanted to sleep on it to be sure. We went back this morning, and she was adopted. UGH! I could kick myself.

The reason I hesitated is because I feel guilty about “replacing Zoë.” Zoë was rescued from the same exact country pound almost 14 years ago, so I just kept thinking of her yesterday. I have to believe, though, that she would want me to save another puppy’s life.



Speaking of Zoë, I finally received my special gift in the mail. My mom and I both had Zoë’s ashes sprinkled into glass and made into necklaces. I plan to wear that necklace on my wedding day, so she can be in my wedding…as planned when I was 9.

 

Wish me luck, everyone. My mom and I are looking at pound pups together tomorrow morning across the bay. If my soulmate isn’t there, then Kyle and I are going back to the country on Wednesday.