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Things My Wife Says – An Ongoing Saga – Pt. 5

So, JoJo (the missus) and I had decided to adopt a dog this coming November when she would be on vacation.  Seemed like a good time to do it.  We’d both be home for a couple of weeks and have lots of time to spend house-training, getting to the vet, buying food and other accoutrements, and just spending quality time with our new “child”.  A few weeks ago, you might have read that we were thinking of adopting a dog named “Bobby” (BAWWWWWBEH!) from a Humane Society foster provider in Dallas that we had found on Petfinder.

Well, that didn’t happen.

We never heard back after filling out an adoption application…and we decided that the people we were going to adopt from sounded crazy anyway.  I mean, we could’ve smuggled heroin out of Mexico more easily than get a “meet and greet” with this dog.  Probably be a lot less painful, too, if you know what I mean.

So, briefly–very briefly–we put the dog adoption idea on hold again ’til closer to November.  Until JoJo wouldn’t stop talking about wanting a damn dog again.  I mean, who cares if dog dander got me like:

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JOJO NEEDS A DOG TO LOVE RIGHT NOW!!!

Okay.  Fine.  So, I got back on the interwebs and started looking.  I knew that Petfinder mostly directs you to ASPCA and Humane Society sponsored programs where foster parents of dogs make you jump through hoops to adopt.  And they’re hella expensive.  So…against all better judgement…I hopped onto Craigslist.  I mean, I hadn’t been on Craigslist since it started years ago and I found a great deal of amusement in looking at the local personals, trying to figure out if any of the perverts were people I knew.  Luckily, no one I knew popped up.  And the “hobby” was fairly short lived once I saw too many pictures of close ups of peoples’…um, well, buttholes.  Really put me off my lunch.  And I’m tubbly.  I likes muh dinner.

Anyhoozles, I started perusing the pets section, trying to see if anybody had adult dogs to adopt–as JoJo and I didn’t want “purebred SnickerPuggles”* (whatever that is) from some questionable breeder.  After about an hour of searching, I found a lady that was trying to re-home a three-year-old Lab/Terrier mix that she had rescued after Hurricane Harvey.  Her ad stated that the dog was timid, but friendly, had scars on her face from being attacked by other dogs, but was fully house-trained, good with kids and adults alike, and was a very sweet “girl”.  So…once again…I relayed my find to JoJo.  Obviously, her reaction was subtle.

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OH, MY GOD, I LOVE HER ALREADY!!!

In the middle of the night, JoJo reached out to the lady that had placed the ad, asking all of the deets, informing her that she wanted the dog–even if everything in the ad was a big fucking lie.  Over a week-and-a-half, JoJo corresponded with the lady via e-mail, and eventually text conversations, about the dog–which was named “Josie”.

The woman said that Josie was house trained, could make it 10+ hours without going outside if needs be, was very sweet, timid around other, bigger dogs, but good on her leash, and came with a bed, food, leash, collar, great in the car…blah blah de blah.  So, after discussing it, JoJo and I agreed that we would adopt Josie.  With one caveat–we would rename her “Jolene”–so that we’d have (yet another) excuse to randomly break out into song.

We couldn’t go get “Jolene” immediately due to work and other things we had going on, but we made a date with the owner to pick the dog up on a certain date and at a certain time.  Everything was set.

The day of the pick up, the lady that had “Jolene” texted JoJo and said she found out she had to work late, so her boyfriend would be bringing the dog for the pick up.

Not going to lie.  If we hadn’t planned to meet by the Texas Motor Speedway not far from the woman’s home in North Lake, I would have assumed that this was a set up, and JoJo and I were about to be skinned alive and our skins used to make prairie skirts for these obvious cannibalistic maniacs.  However, I kept my mouth shut.  Mostly.  Okay.  I shared this theory with JoJo, but she was undeterred.  So, instead of driving an hour-and-a-half to pick up BAWWWWWBEH and pay $150, we drove an hour-and-a-half to get “Jolene” and pay $75 to adopt her.

We got in the car, and everything was fine.  JoJo and I chatted and had a good time in the car, talked about how much we’d love Jolene, and how excited we were to do this.  Even I had to admit that I just couldn’t wait to see Jolene and welcome her into our fucked up little family, such as it is.  However, as we started to get closer to the pick up point, I started to get nervous…

Me: What’s the lady’s name that is selling us this dog?

JoJo: Adopting.  And, uh…I can’t remember.

Me: We’ve giving her $75.  That’s selling.  What’s the boyfriend’s name?

JoJo: ….

Me: Oh, come on!

JoJo:  Wait!  It’s Mark**!  It’s Mark.  I remember now.

Me: Okay…Mark’s a drug dealer, isn’t he?

JoJo: *massive eye roll*

So, I told JoJo that I thought Mark was obviously selling weed since he was free to drop off the dog for his girlfriend–who hadreal job.  JoJo kept ignoring me as I formulated a plan to find out for sure if Mark peddled “the chief”.  I told JoJo that I would introduce myself to Mark and say something like “Man.  My eyes are killing me.  Got glaucoma, ya’ know.  What do you think I should do about that, Mark?  Any suggestions?  Know anything about glaucoma, Mark?”  I was wearing my glasses–he wouldn’t have known if I had glaucoma or not…

Let’s get one thing straight.  I didn’t want to know if Mark sold weed for the reasons you might think.  JoJo and I don’t even drink alcohol, let alone do drugs–but once I want to know something, curiosity gets the better of me– and I need my suspicions confirmed!

Needless to say, JoJo basically pulled onto the shoulder of the road, looked me dead in the eyes, and threatened to kill me if I said one thing about glaucoma.  I rolled my eyes this time, and agreed I’d keep all questions or comments about eye problems to myself, and we carried on to the pick up point.  Which, by the way, was the Buc-ee’s parking lot next to Texas Motor Speedway.  For those unfamiliar with Buc-ee’s…it’s a massive chain of convenience stores in a lot of Texas, and a few in Alabama and Florida.  Tell me right now that that doesn’t scream “drug deal”…

I then formulated a theory that Jolene would come crammed full of balloons of heroin and a cartel member would follow us home to collect it.  I was once again told to “shut the fuck up” by JoJo.

Anyhoozles, to make a long story a little shorter, we pulled up and texted Mark, and told him that we were there.  A few minutes later, Mark shows up, we trade off the now named Jolene, got her bed, food, vet records, blah blah blah, and things were going very smoothly.  In fact, Jolene went right to JoJo and immediately imprinted on her.  It was gross, actually.  So, we got everything–including Jolene–loaded into the car, and thanked Mark again for bringing Jolene to us.  He shook JoJo’s hand and thanked her, then turned to me.  I accepted his handshake, looked him dead in the eyes and asked “Have you ever lived in Colorado…Mark?”

JoJo made me get in the car.

So, anyway, Jolene was a very sweet girl, rode in the back seat like a champ, came home and was a perfect little lady.  This was on Tuesday.  It is now Saturday, and no accidents in the house, no unwarranted barking, no chewing, no digging, nothing bad at all.  She’s a chill dog and is everything we could have hoped for…so buying a dog from an alleged drug dealer that you find on Craigslist might not be the worst decision you ever make.  This coming week, Jolene is going to get to meet her “fur-cousin” Cash (my sister’s dog, my fur-nephew), and we’ll see how that goes.  But they’re both chill dogs, so I suspect all will go extremely well.

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Jolene immediately knew we were okay with her on the couch.
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And the ottoman.
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Later on, JoJo made out with Jolene.  It was sick.

In fact, yesterday, JoJo paid me the rare compliment…I think.  She said “You know, I bitch about your anal-retentive, controlling nature, but if I give you free reign, you sure can pick out a dog.”  Um, thanks.

*Or Labrapupples or Great Daneshitskis.

*Obviously not his real name.  I don’t need the cartel after me.

Until next time…

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