That's what I was asked as I settled into a seat on the bus this morning. "Hmm, what?" "Do you want a puppy?" the gentleman sitting across the aisle asked me. That's when I noticed he had a large Rubbermaid grey tote box on the seats next to him. With holes cut into the side. With two big brown eyes staring out the end hole. As we rode, I heard his story. A friend's wife had passed away and someone had decided the friend needed a dog for company. The friend quickly realized he couldn't deal with a puppy and tried to find it a home. The gentleman on the bus and his wife agreed to take the dog. They had had it for 3 months and come to the realization that their work schedules didn't jive with having a dog at home. So he was on his way to SPCA to drop off the dog. "It's hard" he said. "You have it just long enough to get real attached to it, but you know it ain't fair to the dog, the way we ain't home for it. Her name's Sissy. She's a real good dog."
He knew he was doing the right thing. I knew he was doing the right thing. But I knew he wasn't happy about it. And I could feel his sadness.
Today's tale from the bus.