Ok. I admit it. We didn’t think it through as much as we should have. I mean, we talked about it, made a pros-and-cons list (it really does help), slept on it a couple of nights. But ultimately we made an emotional decision.

If you had seen his furry little face you would have done the same thing.





















The first couple days were…uh…interesting.

He was a little freaked-out, as was I. Can you imagine the shock to his system? Here’s an intelligent, empathetic, emotional creature who has just been yanked away from his siblings and mother. A pack animal with no pack.

And in we come…all like, “Hey, let’s take this dog whose been bred to run and hunt birds and has no way of conceaving things like, ‘inside’ or ‘stairs’ or ‘six-way intersection,’ and bring him to our three-flat in Chicago.”

That’ll be fun.

And I learned something very important after making this rash decision.

The world loves puppies.

Seriously.

You know why? Because puppies love the world. It’s true, I’ve seen it. A happy dog is one of the coolest things a person can experience. A happy dog is transcendent. Language, race, religion, gender are all irrelevant when A floppy-eared puppy who hasn’t grown into his paws tumbles past and over the ball he is chasing as if the ball had somehow tackled him, sending floppy-ears and monster paws tumbling like a cartoon dog, only to come running back with that same ball, just so he can do it again.

Everyone I walk past smiles at me…correction, at us. Sure, there’s the occasional nervous child or surly bastard, but they have their own issues.

I walked past a woman today holding a 2-year old girl. When the child saw the dog she excitedly started repeating, “buppy, buppy, buppy,” as she reached her short arms fearlessly toward this bounding, furry alien. (I’ve often wondered if kids see the world as if they lived in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit? I have little doubt that to this girl, Finley appeared as animated as anything she’s ever seen in Disney.)

We’ve become that couple. Our family has grown by one. Most of our conversations revolve around the same question: “How’s the baby doing?”

Sure, he’s a little co-dependant, but he also does the most amusing stuff.

How’s the baby doing?

He’s on his back, shamelessly exposing himself while I’m scratching him under his chin. And he’s chewing his own ear.