when i was 15, i went to the PA Renaissance Faire. outside the gates of the Faire was a small tent set up by a greyhound rescue. i remember being instantly captivated by these beautiful, graceful dogs. but alas, my allergies were crippling then, and i was 15, and my parents were not dog people. it was never going to happen.
by the time i entered grad school at 26, my allergies had abated enough that i knew i could have a dog (after numerous self-conducted tests with friends’ dogs). but alas, my timing was still off. grad school means no time and no money, plus living in a bad neighborhood in a third floor walk up apartment meant no dog until i had my MFA in hand. my plan was to finish school, move back to Philly, get a dog, maybe buy a house. then i met Dave and that put a (very happy) wrench in those plans.
we lived first just outside of Boston in a small one bedroom carpeted condo that he and his parents owned. no dog there for sure. we moved to Philly, and the only house we could find was one that would not take dogs over 35 pounds (despite a several months long email fight with the landlord). then, last summer, we found a place that would let us get a dog. a big dog.
we moved in August, and it took me until a few weeks ago to get my finances in order enough that i could lay out the hundreds of dollars it takes to adopt a greyhound.
and then i did. he came home yesterday. his name is Calvin. and i cried when i adopted him.