It was in Amsterdam that we met, in the spring, on a rainy day in a lovely little chocolate shop in the Jordaan district. He was adorable. I was smitten.
"To hell with the chocolates," I told my husband as he paid the cashier. "Find out how much she wants for the dog."
I’m not generally in favor of dogs, particularly small dogs. But this little doggie was the friendliest, smartest, best dog I had ever seen. He came trotting out of a back room into the chocolate shop with a little beach ball in his mouth and proceeded to roll it toward me with his head. I rolled it back to him and he put his front paws on it and rolled the ball around the room on his hind legs.
He (or quite possibly she) looked vaguely dachshund-like, but not entirely. I really don’t know a thing about dogs. I just knew I wanted that one.
The cashier was clearly not going to sell me the dog. She did not even look amused by the suggestion. My husband refused to help with a dognap plan. And he pointed out that I had no way to arrange transport of the dog.
So with a heavy heart, I parted from little Amsterdoggie. I’m a cat person, I told myself, as every traveler should be. You can’t leave dogs unattended for a few days, or have someone in just to feed them when you’re off on a longer trip. A dog just doesn’t make sense for someone like me.
I guess I did the right thing, leaving him there in Amsterdam. We live in different worlds. It wasn’t meant to be.
I only wish I’d had a camera with me. At least I’d have a picture to remember him by.