In Search of Higgins

Almost eighteen years ago, I met two little West Highland White Terriers and fell in love. Since my workday was always 7:00 am to 7:00 pm, and I was living in apartments that discouraged pets, I didn't pursue my desire to have a Westie of my own. Higgins became sort of my phantom dog; lots of birthday cards arrived with Higgins look-alikes on them. For years. I decided last year that it was way past time, that I need a little dog to keep me sane (???), that with my daughter in the same town to help out in an emergency, et cetera et cetera. Now the next step(s) should be fairly easy, wouldn't you think? Right.

Step One: I'd like to adopt an adult dog. Adopt -- because so many dogs are abandoned each year. Adult -- because they might be harder to place being all grown up. And because they might already be housebroken -- a really good thing since I've never had a dog of my own before. Also, I might actually be able to afford the fees. And there are so many resources: rescue organizations; shelters; friends of.....; a plethora of groups dedicated to enticing you to save a pet. Okay. I start the process. First, I visit the local Animal Rescue offices that rarely have small adult dogs, or if they do get one in -- he/she is gone quickly, so you have to phone daily (?) and then get over there immediately. Phew. Next, I fill out online applications (EVERYTHING is online!) for many (MANY) of the aforementioned. Some even request small deposit fees, to which I comply. (never hear from these folks again!) References -- absolutely. Now, almost all of these organizations want applicants who do not work (in order to be around 24/7 for the dog;) have lots of money (in order to afford the medical, grooming, etc., and rather large adoption fees -- I thought this was rescue?); have no small children in their lives (in order to avoid competing with the needs of the dog); and either have no other pets -- or if your desired dog comes from a puppy mill, then you must already have a socialized dog to help the new adoptee along. AND -- even though these groups are advertising available pets nationally, just about all of them will NOT permit adoption to out of state applicants even if one is willing to make the trip to fetch the dog. Of course most of the Westies I see online in need of homes are in Missouri or Louisiana or California. I remain positive. I even have my small backyard patch made secure so that Higgins won't be in danger of taking off, or of going out there to destroy my little garden only to encounter someone elses wayward pet. I would go directly to a pet store, but I'm warned often against them because most of those puppies come from puppy mills. (where a dog is kept caged for years at a time and used to produce babies.) Yes, there are respectable breeders, but remember I'm looking for an adult dog. sigh.....

I have not as yet found Higgins. No kidding.

Step Two: To simplify matters for myself -- I began a campaign to find a job in the town where I now reside. Eliminating a long commute would make it easier to tend to the needs of Higgins, make me more appealing to the "adoption agencies," and give me back three hours a day. Oh, I am soooo naive! Remember: I am, indeed, a woman of a certain age. I have, this past year, applied for at least a dozen positions to which my resume speaks volumes. Too many volumes, apparently. Being "over-qualified," or being "very experienced," is now a simile for being too old for their tastes. And -- just to digress for a minute -- they lie so badly! Why do they lie at all?? Today I had a call telling me I didn't get a job because "the owner of the company hired someone he's worked with before." This is a popular excuse. (sort of like --'I was absent because my grandmother died.' A former student of mine used that excuse so often I counted six grandmothers.) Which is as insulting as not getting a job because of age. (especially if one is told at the outset that the owner is not involved in the hiring process on any level.) And being always interviewed by someone in their twenties (sorry if I offend anyone in their twenties) who hasn't any experience interviewing applicants -- well, you get the picture.

So I guess I'm up to Step Three: Ha! I'm not sure what that is -- except perhaps, forging ahead. Continuing to commute while continuing to apply for North Shore jobs. Saving some money for adoption fees. Buying at least two lottery tickets a week - to invoke instant retirement. And telling the Universe that if a Westie named Higgins is looking for me, I'm waiting at home.