We've wanted a dog for a long time. A really, really long time.
It started harmlessly enough. A smiling glance downward. Then a tentative pat on the back. Casual questions to strangers about their temperament and schedules. A giggle at how cute their tiny outfits were.
Over the years, our desire grew into an obsession. We'd take detours through busy downtown neighbourhoods during rush hour, with faint but determined hopes that we might see one, carrying its favourite toy while prancing down the street. If we did, it would sustain us for days.
We developed an ever-growing YouTube playlist, comprised entirely of Chihuahua videos. Chihuahuas floating serenely in a pool on inflatable rafts. Trying on boots for the first time. Singing. Crying. Chasing robotic dogs. I watched them all and I watched them repeatedly.
I'd be on the rescue groups website, several times a day. Poring over the photos, dogs ready for adoption, dogs in foster care, learning and memorizing their stories. I'd see the tilt of their heads, with those huge wide-spread ears, looking up at the camera with hope from the green grass.
This has been a long time coming. And we couldn't be more thrilled.