Say what?

Back to the fun stuff...Obviously I was going to apply to adopt Nadine. I think we all already knew that from the beginning. (That smarty-pants, know-it-all Melissa certainly did.) I mean, look at this face!

These were Nadine's mug shots as taken by the wonderful ACS volunteer photographer who's name I never got. (Sorry I don't have your full name to give you credit here. I hope "wonderful ACS volunteer" will do!) 

It was getting late at ACS; Nadine had to go back to her pen and I had to get the adoption process started. While excited, I was also a terrible emotional wreck. I felt like I was getting puberty, pregnancy, postpartum, premenopausal, and menopausal hormones all at the exact same time. This was possibly the most impulsive thing I had ever done in my life. I am NOT impulsive. This was kinda big for me.

I walked Nadine back to her pen - she was shivering again - to find that Doris was gone. The woman earlier was approved so Doris had gone on to hopefully a loving home. Nadine had to go back into her cage alone. It was a sorrowful sight, but I knew it wouldn't be for long. Where I once saw the ACS interview as my last defense, it was now more like that insane balance-on-one-arm-and-hover-your-legs-out-straight-behind-you pose in yoga class that the teacher demonstrates like she's one of Barnum and Bailey's mutant offspring and says with the Joker's grin, "now you try!" while I'm wearing my there-is-no-friggin'-way-lady-I'm-just-going-to-lay-down-in-shavasana-now-you-crazy-monkey-girl expression. Right...so it was making me a little nervous.

Filling out the forms was difficult as those troublesome tear ducts were pulling their Niagara routine again. I was the last interview of the day and holding up the employees ready to go home. "Fine, let's make this quick," I thought. I listened as the family before me was interviewed - it was surprisingly long and comprehensive. Even the little boy was included. I was preparing for tough questions, a long process and possible rejection.

I sat in the small office with my interviewer as she reviewed my forms. Oh crimminy, I'm sure she's honing in on the part about how I work full-time and am gone for up to 10 hours a day. She's going to bust me on that for sure! Instead, she begins by talking about Nadine and going over her health history. Saving the tough part for later, I assume.

"She's an older dog. For some people that's a problem," she says. "Not for me," I reply.

"She has slipping kneecaps, common in toy dogs. They are okay currently, but could require expensive vet care in the future," she warned. "I understand, I can handle that."

"Her teeth have never had care. She'll need a cleaning...it may be costly." "That's fine, she's worth it,"  I answer.

Finally, "We are almost positive she is not housebroken. We have no evidence that she is. Are you okay with that?" Say what?  Not housebroken? But...huh? Oh crap. How do you housebreak an 8-year-old dog when you work all day? What do I say? How do I answer? What should I do?

"Sure, no problem."

Wait, what did I just say? And what is my mom who will, in just 5 days from now, be taking care of Nadine for 3 weeks...what is she going to say?

Oh crap!