Logically, adopting Pyg was one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. Struggling under the weight of Maisy's medical bills, her slow recovery, and the fear of what the future would mean for her, I knew that adding more to my plate- and hers- was probably ill-advised. But my heart and soul told me that no matter how bad the timing, I needed to have Pyg in my life, and since my intuition is rarely wrong, I took the ultimate leap of faith.
I won't lie: things have been harder with Pyg around. Money is uncomfortably tight. My carpets are smellier. And I've had quite a few things destroyed. At last count, I've lost three containers of fish food, a DVD case, my wallet, a skein of yarn, a spool of thread... the list goes on and on, and with few exceptions, I have no freaking clue how he's gotten a hold of these things.
But things have also been so much better with him, too. People who know me will know that I have a bad worrying habit, and that for many years, Maisy has been the focus of much of it. Pyg has proven to be a wonderful (if naughty) distraction. I still worry about Maisy of course, but it's much harder to do with him around to pick up after.
What's more, during a time that I could be moping around about Maisy's shortened future, I have Pyg to make me laugh. Pyg is such a funny dog, and the infusion of joy he's brought in to my household has been good for both me and Maisy.
Perhaps the most important thing he has brought to my life, though, is the knowledge that love is too big to be contained in just one being. I never thought I could love another dog as much as I love Maisy. I was wrong. Pyg has taught me that opening yourself up to the possibility that you might have more than one heart dog or soul mate doesn't diminish the amount of love you have for the first one. It only allows your heart to be fuller.