Our household has been blessed with a new arrival: eleven month old Australian Shepherd Matty. As I write this, she is licking a pizza stone which I unwisely left on an eye-level shelf. Please try to forget this just in case I ever serve you homemade pizza.Â
Matty came to us as part of some sort of “deal” Ann made with the breeder. We didn’t have to pay for her, but at some point she’ll be mated, and will go to the kennel to birth and wean her puppies. The breeder gets the puppies. We in turn pay for the food, vet bills, dog treats, carpet cleaning, etc. I’m not sure what happens to this “deal” in case she accidentally gets knocked up by some neighborhood mongrel, instead of a carefully selected Australian Shepherd stud.Â
That brings us to the algebra of dog ownership. Two dogs means twice the food but it seems to yield four times as much dog poop. And walking two dogs? It’s ten times more complicated than walking one, turning a pleasurably mindless activity into a challenging ordeal. No, having a second dog isn’t easy, but as I get older I’m beginning to think that they key to living longer is doing new things. Hell, If I thought it would add five years to my life, I’d probably get another.