Puppy Love

Last summer, when I was doing stock theatre in Cold Water, Michigan and living with a host mom (whom I called my 'ho sistah', as she was far too young to be my mom), I fell in love with Logan - the sweetest, most kind, gentle and loving chocolate lab there ever was. I can recall coming home from a long day of rehearsals to his big brown welcoming eyes, and taking long walks with him along Cold Water lake. Often I'd be sitting out by the water, my nose stuck in my script, only to be delightfully distracted by the scratches of his paws on the metal dock as he ambled up beside me, resting his chin on my shoulder. In that stressful, crazy whirlwind of a summer, Logan was a calm, chocolatey source of solace on four legs. It was during this time that I decided - if I were to ever get a dog of my own- it would be a gentle, sweet, loving chocolate lab- just like Logan.

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The Dashing Litigator and I are day dreaming out loud together. Talking about our future homes in New York City and Miami Beach, surfing lessons, traveling to Paris, children, our plans to take over the world. These conversations are light-hearted and innocent pipe dreams without promises that flutter to the surface now and again, making us smile and look at each other with brighter eyes. To us the future is a clean slate with no pressures and endless possibilities.

We're day dreaming out loud about dogs when I tell him about Logan, my summer love. He tells me that though he never had pets growing up, he's always dreamed of having a chocolate lab. He even has a name picked out: Duncan. I love it.

One late morning after enjoying a delicious Sunday brunch at Square Kitchen, we're strolling down Lincoln Avenue hand in hand. We're enjoying the sunshine and the lazy luxury of the day when we encounter a chocolate lab who has been curbed outside a bookstore, lounging on the sidewalk. We pause and talk to him for a bit before continuing on, smiling at each other silently and knowingly.

It is Wednesday afternoon. I'm at work, eating my lunch at my desk, when suddenly an email drops in from the Dashing Litigator. The email reads: "Please tell me why I should not do this." Attached to the email is a picture of a two week old chocolate lab puppy being held entirely in the palm of the hand of a smiling young woman. The woman, it turns out, is the daughter of one of his secretaries at the firm. Her boyfriend's dog just gave birth to a litter of labs. Among them - only one chocolate lab - a boy.

I am instantly reduced to a pile of 'awww-ing' mush. As the puppy is only two weeks old, it will be available for adopting in about 5 weeks. The Dashing Litigator and I exchange a few emails - and just like an attorney - he lists out the pros and cons of this potentially huge and life changing purchase. The arguments are virtually equal on either side. I call him and my heart is saying, "Do this! He's soooo adorable, how could you not?" And my head is saying, "This is a major thing! You're trying to sell your house, you work long hours...you've never had a dog before! This is a huge committment!" But what I end up saying is:

"It's Duncan. You have to have him."

He agrees and then says, "Well...you would help me with him, right?"

Without question.

Later that night, the Dashing Litigator picks me up for a date - our first real 'going-out' date in a couple weeks. What follows is a fabulous evening that starts with pumpkin martinis at the very cozy Bungalow Lounge, then dinner at Feast in Bucktown and finally a giddy after-dinner drink in the Signature Room, atop the Hancock Building. Being with him is, as usual, never boring. We talk of many things, including our now verymuch official 'boyfriend and girlfriend status'...but we don't talk about the potential puppy.

And then we are in his truck and stopped at a light. "Look!" he exclaims. I turn my head, and there, in the other lane and facing the opposite direction - also stopped - is an SUV. In the backseat with his head out the window, is an adult chocolate lab. Our window is also open and I find that I can't contain myself. "Hellooooo puppy!!" I call. The pup's ears perk up and he cocks his head. The Dashing Litigator laughs. The owner of the canine is nonplussed, and soon they are on their way and out of our sight.

"Where is your head right now?" I ask him.

"I know it would be a lot of work. But it might be nice to have a living thing to take care of. And if I wait - would there EVER be a 'good time' for it?" I am silently pondering his point when he leans into me and nuzzles my neck, drawing in quick sniffs and tickling me like a puppy dog would. I laugh and push him away. "Great. Then I'd have two puppies to contend with!"

As we drive, I look out the window, feeling the cool fall night air on my face, the Dashing Litigator's fingers laced through my own, feeling everybit the picture of contentment. I sigh an audible sigh.

"You know," he says, "I love being out with you."

"Why is that?" I ask.

"Because everyone smiles at us."

My heart melts at that observation. It is quite possibly the sweetest observation ever made in the history of mankind. Or at least dating-man-kind. And again I find myself slipping.

And I think about this two week old chocolate lab puppy. This puppy that could quite possibly be the first of our outloud 'daydreams' to come true. Duncan. I know that I would love this dog - I feel as though I already do. This dog would be the Dashing Litigator's, of course, but as I am now a part of the picture, I can't help feeling he would be partly mine, too.

And then I have a mild panic attack. What if this relationship ends? Not only would I lose the man, but I would also lose the dog.

The thought of the former makes me feel sick.

But the thought of the latter makes me feel suicidal.

I decide there is only one clear solution if this dog is to become a part of my life:

The Dashing Litigator must never become apart from it.