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I can't go back

by Jack Taylor

It's been almost five years since I lost Jo-Jo, a 13 year old Golden Retriever that was the finest dog I've ever known.  She wore a fixed smile, the corners of her mouth always upturned.  Her eyes glowed with anticipation of being with you or ready to get down to serious outside work.  She was truly a friend and I still miss her.

With the loss, many have asked me if I'm ever getting another dog.  It's tempting.  Really, how can you not look at a pile of puppies and not want to take one home.  I miss walking a dog to the tune of at least 30 additional pounds, which was enhanced by quitting smoking, but that's another blog altogether.

Here's why I won't get another dog.  They're too much work.  I'm 57 and I don't want to pick up poo anymore from frozen January tundra or soggy May melting.  I don't want to wipe feet any more after downpours.  I don't want to struggle to bath the critter. I don't miss vet bills or dragging fifty pounds of dog food around the grocery store.  I want to spend more time out of town and finding reliable boarding can be difficult and expensive.  I don't want to outlive another dog and deal with the crushing loss.

Dogs are the greatest.  Their love is unconditional.  I miss that.  But my days of giving a furry friend a forever home are over.