The day I sold my soul

If someone 5 years ago, had told me... no, wait. If someone LAST YEAR , had told me that I would EVER be running a farm, I would have immediately starred them down as if they had just wished the plague upon my entire household and then graciously offered up that I don't even want a gold fish in a bowl much less a hooved mammel running around loose in my yard.

Jump forward to 2014. I don't know what came over me. Seriously, your guess is as good as mine. But there I was perusing the "clearance" jewlery at Target ( a favorite past time of mine) when all of a sudden I heard my mouth utter aloud, "maybe we'll swing by the animal shelter today." Which of course fell immediately on the ears of my now overly delighted 4 year old son (first time in history he's heard anything I've said). So overly delighted with joy that in the midst of his ADD induced frenzy he was willing to forgo the usual "mommy wants 5 uninterrupted minutes to look at pretty things that she will never find time to wear-bribe" in the form of cake on a stick ​from Starbucks, in order to move on to the new and "shinier" thing.

Meanwhile, I was still reeling about the fact that my brain and mouth had somehow pulled a "dish ran away with the spoon" move outta nowhere and hadn't thought to keep me in the loop about it.

So, off we went to the  shelter on the premise that we were "just looking". Upon arriving we were ushered to a large, loud "Science experiment" type looking room by a woman in a lab coat, and I half expected to find the animals in straight jackets and strapped to back boards. The room boasted a very distinct and pungent aroma that one can only liken to that of a hearty balance of chemicals, feces and fear. And as pleasant as all of these things already were, my son was now covering his ears and adding to the choir of baritone and bass disgruntled complaints in the form of howls and voicing his own, that he in fact wanted to leave. To which I may or may not have been relieved a little.

The winding maze of cages lead us to a small door which read​ EXIT. When, in hindsight, it really should have had the disclaimer of "at your own risk" printed somewhere on it. Because it lead to a room of small dogs and puppies. With one foot out the door, I heard my son yell, "WAIT!!" which for a split second I hoped meant that perhaps he had spotted a vending machine or something shiny. However, much to my dismay, (at least at the moment)  I turned to see that it was in fact no vending machine, but a quiet docile dog with her head down pressed up against the front bars of her crude home.

She did not greet us when we approached, merely lifted her deep brown eyes up to meet mine. You could see that she must have JUST had puppies as her very swollen "udders" ? (seemed like the most appropriate and family friendly word) could not be missed. We offered her a treat as to entice some glimpse of personality other than "rock bottom". Which she did not accept, but still I decided to seek assistance from the "asylum lady" to bring her out of the crate for us to formally meet.

Not even 20 minutes later I had my second out of body experience of the day as I found myself pulling into the "Petco" parking lot with a dog at my feet. Callie to be exact. I had barely come to terms with this split second decision myself much less know exactly what it was that I was going to tell my husband. "Merry early Christmas unless she craps on the rug"?  I dunno, something to that effect. At any rate, we were dog owners now and I was attempting to mentally prepare myself for the challenges that that would bring. I had NO idea that this was just the beginning of a story that seems to still be writing itself on a DAILY basis.

So, on that note. come enjoy this adventure with me!

And tune in for my next installment. 

"Which came first, the chickens or the goats..."