We were watching ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS the other morning before work and whenever Patsy said a line, Arrow would wag her tail. And then when Patsy said “Emergency Liposuction!” Arrow jumped up at the TV and barked. My dog has a great sense of humor.

Obviously, given the circumstances, I feel horrible and I’m in a weird mood.

On top of this, Arrow was being a total pain in the ass this morning. She got into a space bag full of knitting and pulled out a bunch of stuff to chew on.

Then she unwound a yarn ball.

All in the two minutes I took to put on my mascara.

I cleaned up quickly, and was fuming at her, this little doggy who is just having fun, and I was almost ready to go, but I needed to get my shoes on, so I walked by her crate to get them.

And she went in.

I didn’t tell her to, I didn’t lure her with a goodie, and I didn’t do it to punish her.

She went in because that’s what we do next. Before I leave.

It made me late, but I stayed to pet her for a little while, because in spite of her being a huge pain in the ass this morning, she is a really good dog and she’s just trying to earn a goodie.

Today she got two.

So, as my followers on Twitter know, I had a dog for a weekend but had to give her back because of a terrible allergic reaction.

I have been wanting a dog since Tom and I moved in together, and I’ve wanted a corgi for probably half as long. Roxy qualifies on all counts. Plus, she’s four years old and already house trained! But it was not meant to be, and it took me about a week to get back to my normalish non-asthmatic breathing.

What I learned from this experience is that I don’t think I should have a dog. The one regular work day that we had her, I was so worried about her being home alone (after years of Tom saying, “But it would be home alone and sad and Bad Things could happen! Here is a list of examples! That’s why I don’t want a dog! Also, we live in an apartment!”) that I couldn’t concentrate on anything and was basically useless all day at work.

The whole experience contributed to my general feelings of failure at normal things that normal people do and I’ve just decided that any dog that has me as a caregiver is screwed and I’m screwed because somehow I’ve become allergic to dogs even though for years they were the only animals that I didn’t react to.

This was something that was supposed to just be a happy thing – we were rescuing a dog that needed a home, I love dogs, I’ve always wanted a dog, Tom was finally cool with it – and it all went to shit in less than 72 hours.

I’ve been bummed out since it happened, and even though it’s not nearly on the same scale as a human adoption not working out… it’s the closest thing that I can compare it to, having read a million adoptive-parent blogs. Because have you tried to read pet blogs? Those people are CRAZY.

So, um, no mammals in the house besides me and Tom until one of us dies, I guess. And Tom is going to read this entry and blame himself, but I think we should both blame me, because it was my idea in the first place. I win the Fail Race!

And I’m really sad about it. Bleurgh.