Java Update, no. 1

On Saturday evening I received an email from the coordinator of the basenji I am fostering. She was updating his profile and needed a few pieces of information. A wave of possessiveness overtook me, so I immediately phoned to ask if I could be the one to adopt him. We were all sitting in the living room with the dogs happily chewing on smelly hooves. I wasn't on the phone more than 2 minutes before Yo-Yo and Bug exploded. When basenjis disagree, they rear up on their hind legs, "boxing" their opponent, all the while snarling like horror movie monsters. I had just explained to the coordinator that everyone was getting along so well when basenji apocalypse erupted beside me, loud enough for the mouthpiece to convey.

I hastily explained to the coordinator that my dogs had caused the brouhaha she had just heard, that Java was doing well and fitting in nicely with the pack. I'm not sure if the disagreement concerned a hoof or if Elizabeth's "translation" is more accurate:

Bug: Oh, be a sport, and let her ask the coordinator if we can adopt Java. I kinda like him.

Yo-Yo: The hell that puppy is staying in this house.

The coordinator said that of course I could adopt my charge, but that she didn't want me to think that no one out there could provide a good home. She was carefully evaluating applicants and wouldn't give him to someone who would irresponsibly open the door so that he could escape. She assured me that I would be involved in the process, that if I changed my mind and couldn't part with him—even at the last minute—I could still be the one to adopt him.

After I hung up, I felt better about the whole process. I got a great dog because of the rescue group, and I don't want to hog a wonderful puppy and keep someone else from having the same experience I have had with Bug.

But the truth is, I want Java, even if it means having to walk three dogs three times a day.

As you will see, Yo-Yo must have tuned in on my feelings. I took her for the first walk after this phone call. Yo-Yo likes to sniff the street outside the house, confirming with her nose all of the activity she has observed from the front window. I didn't rush and let her decide when she wanted to return to the house. Then I walked Bug. When he and I got home, we discovered that Yo-Yo had defecated all over the living room carpet and was sitting on the couch with a I'm-not-the-one-who's-done-anything-wrong look on her face. Basenjis use poop as punctuation to make their wishes clear, and Yo-Yo wanted no new member of the pack. Message received!

By Sunday night, however, Yo-Yo was letting Java sleep with his chin on her thigh. There's no telling how this experience is going to end.