If You Were Home Schooled, Skip This One.

The Broadbent Family has been contemplating an addition to the family as of late. Since I'm not keen on getting any fatter, missing out on any amount of sleep, and my breasts have really given all that they care too, I am more interested in getting someone else's baby. Perhaps a Labrador Retriever.

It's funny how the second you start ogling dogs on the computer at work, all of a sudden, your co-workers are lining up, ready to pawn off their "best dog ever." Uh hm. It they were so frickin' great, why don't you just keep them yourself. And really, the 'I'm moving, and am just so down trodden not to be able to take with me.' Only works if we aren't co-workers and I know you aren't moving.

Dawson stayed home sick today, which is just spectacular since he is only two days out from a 10 day course of antibiotics for Strep. He gets sick if the wind blows just right, and it will be forever my fault for only keeping him on the teat for 4 months, at least that's what the La Lechers say. I did my best, but I do curse my lactation deficit regularly, and usually while I am standing in line at the pharmacy for the little guy.

About 10:30 he got his second wind, or the Motrin kicked in, and he and Dylan were driving me nuts. I stepped out of the shower to hear some grunts and screams, and while I usually let them settle things, "boy style", I leaned around the corner for a visual and found both of them trying to put on the same t-shirt. They almost had it. Two sets of arms out each arm hole, and Dawson's head through the top, with Dylan's face desperately trying to work its way up. The t-shirt was so taut against Dyl's face it looked like pantyhose, and I had to calculate the distance to the camera, and how much brain damage might have already occurred. My calculations were off, because as soon as I had rescued Dyl, they both started laughing and giving each other knuckles.

So hilarious.

I am blessed to have the kind of rapport with my children, that when I say, "I am going to shower. I will only be gone 15ish minutes. Please do not get near Dawson, so that you don't get sick." They listen and follow my instructions to a T..........shirt, that is.

I threatened Daws with going to school late, and Dylan with an eternal timeout, and Emma just laid on the couch glued to Sesame Street, not even noticing the Boyz or me. When she gets in the Elmo zone, the house could crumble around her and she wouldn't be fazed.

So back to the new dog part. Once I decided it would be irresponsible to send Daws to school, and I am all about being responsible, I decided to punish them with shopping. That is the worst thing either of the Boyz can imagine, so we loaded up and hit the Outlets in Park City. After a painful hour of shopping, and three pairs of much needed shoes, we spied the animal shelter, Furburbia, and I chatted up the Hoodlums about going in to see if we could find the mutt of our dreams.

They weren't open for a couple of minutes, so we stood outside and watched the kittens from the window. They were adorable, and we were all feeling warm and cuddly watching them. The Boyz began to daydream aloud, all the wonderful Lassie-esque adventures awaiting them and their future dog, and Emma was staking claim to the puppy sleeping with her. Before we knew it the Closed sign was flipped and the door unlocked. We stood on the brink of a new beginning for our family.

The warm and cuddly feeling lasted approximately 3 seconds. We were not prepared for Furburbia. It is a different dimension than we live in. The non-stop barking hit us like a ton of bricks when we stepped into the store, and even more harsh was the welcome we received from the bandanna wearing, fur covered, animal worshiping employees. Oh, boy. It rocketed me back through time, to touch on every experience I have ever had with a home schooled kid. I think it is great if you love animals, but you don't have to sacrifice social skills, to prove your love. The line between activism and just plain wacky, is not that thin.

The two women working there,(way past just being animal lovers) glared at us, and I could feel the resentment that we caused by breaking their human/strays barrier. I felt like we had just intruded into their morning ritual of cat licking, and possibly thrown off their whole schedule. As we made our way back to the dog section, the first Plexiglas enclosure moved a few inches as a drooling, snarling, scarred up Pit Bull rammed his face into the glass and made Dyl jump three feet. It was the first of many, "Please Mommy, not that one."

We quickly moved on to the next cage which was a play-by-play re-creation of our first experience. They had 4 nasty, snarling Pit Bulls, a nasty, snarling Blue Heeler, some mutt puppies huddled in the corner of their cage, scared out of their wits, and a nasty snarling yellow lab. It really made it hard to pick just one.

As we were reaching the end of the nasty, snarling collection, their was a guy adopting a white, long haired, medium size, hyper dog. The dog was on a leash, but the new owner was not controlling it at all. The dog nudged between my legs and started vigorously licking Emma's face. She was already petrified from all our family pet shopping, and I was a little on edge from all the weirdness, so I shot the guy my best, 'Get control of the dog, or I will gut you both,' look, which he was oblivious to. The dog charged forward and reared up against Dyl, who had long ago, assumed the fetal position. I grabbed the dog's collar, mid-air, and jerked him back and told the guy to get control of his bleeping dog.

I swear the place went silent. The man's jaw dropped open, the Cat Ladies stopped licking/grooming, and it seemed like even the Pit Bulls gave it a rest for a minute. That's when I turned on my heel, and said, "Come on guys, we'll get our new dog from a puppy mill."

Seriously. I know some people think of their animals as their children, but even if that were the case, and my kid goes up to another child on the playground and licks their face, or sniffs their butt, you can be damn sure there will be repercussions, swift and fierce.

I guess we will keep looking, but probably just on Pet Finder, so we can see the dogs in the shelters, without the "shelter" experience. And hopefully, by the time we find our right match, the kids nightmares will have ceased and they will be open to the addition.