A very little chihuahua puppy that visited yesterday. They are dogs that seek warm pockets and nooks to burrow into and fall asleep. This little one cozied herself into my elbow's crook. She was so little and sweet, with her tiny nose, big eyes, and soft little paws. It's easy to want to take in little puppies. They are helpless and adorable, like a newborn baby. Feelings of affection and attachment come on powerfully, and you start talking about your desire to keep the little thing. In your mind, you make the connections and you see how simple the transition would be. The dog is so tiny, for example, that you'd be able to take it with you everywhere, eliminating the need for a daily dog walker. You could go on vacations with the pup, since she fits so easily into a carry on. She wouldn't be a strain on your budget, since her stomach are so small. That sort of thing. But then cold reality sets in. You wake up from the dream, and rational thought invades your mind in sobering waves, creating a strong undertoe that trips your Samaritan resolve, short circuits your canine caring instinct, and slaps you in the face. Visions of carrying around a furry animal in your pocket begin to fade. I look at the pictures I took of the little light brown fur ball with white face markings. At least I have the pictures.
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