Wait for one
When I first got Basil, I would speak vaguely of the sort of dog I wanted: black, around 50 pounds, a shelter mutt goofball. Nobody could visualize this.
Once I got Basil, I have always spoken of overlap. There will always be a dog. When Basil got old, I’d say, I’d find another dog, and then they would be buds until Basil leaves, and then I would have the next dog. Nobody could visualize this.
The idea of the dog is inside of me alone, it feels, and so I guess it is my job to create it. Overlap happened both earlier & later than expected. Basil is now over 10, and he is thoroughly blind. It was time.
Then I flew to France & Japan & Denver and didn’t think about dogs any more than normal. Three days after I returned from Denver, I pulled up One Tail at a Time’s adoptable dogs list and saw a new fella who looked like a doofy yellow lab. Housetrained. Takes commands. 3 years old. I drove over to their adoption facility and saw him being taken back on his afternoon walk. An hour later, I adopted him.
Meet Parmesan.
This is, for the record, terrifying. Despite my owning Basil for eight years, I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t remember what it’s like to own a new dog. Parmesan is higher energy than Basil, which automatically makes him the highest energy dog I’ve ever owned. He’s also heartworm positive, which means I will have to throw him in Dog Jail® for two months while he gets his shots. I have no idea how to do any of this, and now I have to figure it out – while releasing a new book and repositioning the consultancy. During a Chicago summer, where everyone, myself included, will be feral.
This is the work. Dogs are work. You’re looking at a commitment of a decade or more. And it starts now; I am going to close this window and walk the good boy.