It has been almost 2 months since Daisy died and I still think about her every day. Her absence feels very tangible and I expect to see her round a corner any minute.

Joining thoughts of Daisy, though, are also thoughts of other dogs. We are a dog family. All three of us love dogs. Mark and I bought our house so that we could own a dog. So, when do we welcome another dog into our lives?

This has become a tough question.

Mark believes we should wait 6 months from Daisy’s death until we think about adopting a dog. (This is also the opinion of the dog training book we trust.) I’m not sure I can wait that long. Mark would like to start with a puppy as we did with Daisy. I’m open to an older dog who does not wake us up in the middle of the night or chew like crazy while teething. Mark also thinks that the primary dog-walker (me) should be in good health so that we are not adding more stress to our rather stress-y lives. OK, he has a good point here, but I like to live in denial of my health issues (treatment going well, by the way–still have a full head of hair!!) and go on with as much “normal” as possible, so I’m willing to say that since I’ve walked on the treadmill the last two days, I’m good to go.

But here is the kicker. As long as I can remember in my adult life (let’s say, 12 years or so?), I have had a runny nose. When I cleaned out the front closet this summer, I found tissues is absolutely every one of my coat pockets, purse pockets, everywhere. I filled a grocery bag with crumbled tissues. Since Daisy died, my nose has stopped running. I’m no Columbo, but I’m guessing I’m allergic to dogs. And, in my mind, allergic to dogs=allergic to love. So, there will definitely need to be some investigation here to see what kind of dog we might even be able to adopt. Perhaps the shelter dogs I browse online daily will have to be passed over for a fancier breeder dog.

All this I mull over and over. All the while missing my trusty hairy companion. A runny nose a small price to pay for her sweet presence in our family.