Confession. I’ve been consumed with swiping right on my iPhone.

Recently I  found myself knee-deep in the dating pool, though truthfully the pool is filled with lots of dogs.

Literally.

For the past several weeks I have been furtively searching for a new fur baby to bring into my life. My heart, though still broken by the loss of my beloved Stanley, was so expanded by him that he left me with an abundance of love to give. Stan the Man is gently nudging me on in my hunt.

At 68, my puppy-raising years are now behind me, so I am on a search for an adult dog who needs a new home. Think of it more like the Golden Bachelor, canine edition.

Which dog will get my rose? Or milk bone.

I’ve cast a wide net in my search, from saintly rescue organizations and no-kill animal shelters to former service dogs and breeders offering retrievers who have reached retirement age after years of faithful breeding and now need a more laid-back lifestyle.

The world wide web is littered with paw prints and it’s hard to not be overwhelmed. As a recent dog widow just new to the dating scene navigating through so many choices has been a bit daunting.

This online search is not far removed from online dating with all its pros and cons. And sad to say there are a lot of Cons out there. I’ve been exposed not to catfishing but dogfishing. So-called purebred breeders prey on the vulnerabilities of those like me in an emotional place.

The risk of deception and misrepresentation you find on dating sites is alive here.

Too Good To Be True

Very early on while I was still quite misty-eyed, there were high-pressure “breeders” easily luring me in with a picture-perfect dog, an endearing description that tugged at the heart, and a miraculous promise of door-to-door delivery of the pup.

This too-good-to-be-true breeder without a website who promised doggie delivery to my home curiously never inquired where I was located and his own location seemed to shift around. He repeatedly promised that he’d provide me with the requested papers, documents, and information I asked for.

Once he dropped off the dog. Not before. Nothing to see here.

Before I even hinted at any serious interest he was persistent on getting a deposit for a dog whose picture was likely taken from some other site.

Then there was the reputable rescue organization who wanted me to decide on the spot for a dog I had previously seen online, after only a brief 20-minute meet and greet outside a Petco store on the streets of NY. It felt more like a mail-order bride. New to dating I wasn’t ready to get hitched after only 20 minutes.

Expanding My Horizons

Like online dating, there is the obvious overemphasis on physical appearances and I’ve learned to expand my “type” to allow for a broader range of connectiveness.

Since I was a child I’ve always had male dogs…now I opened up the search. I was happy to check any and all categories he, she, or they. Whatever their gender preference, it was fine by me.

For the past 35 years, my three sons have all been blonde labs bearing a striking resemblance to one another. Though I have always lived by the credo “blondes have more fun,” I suspect those with auburn coloring have fun too.

I was still drawn to the pure breed of Labrador Retriever, but if a sweet dog had been the product of a one-night stand between a  retriever and a beagle, that was ok by me.

Rose Ceremony

In the past week, I had whittled down to my final candidates.

Like Gerry the weepy geriatric bachelor on the Golden Bachelor, I was juggling 2 beauties at the same time- Babs and Sadie Mae.  Both vying for my attention with come hither headshots. I could easily see telling each of them I loved them.

Babs

Babs, a ravishing foxy mama, was from a loving home, and had served her time as a first-rate AKC Labrador retriever breeding Mom, but was now looking to change careers. She had earned the right to be a dog whose only role was to be doted on. This former working gal who lives in North Carolina seemed to check off all the boxes, a champion swimmer, gentle, smart, well trained, rarely barked, and had the temperament to be a therapy dog.

And at 48 pounds she was more the size of a Thanksgiving turkey, so much more portable than my 95-pound side of beef that was Stanley.

Sadie Mae

Sadie Mae was a southern blonde bombshell with a sketchy past. Like so many rescues, she was scooped from the streets of Louisianan. She had had a hard-knock life and was currently living in a foster home overrun with other dogs.

With big soulful brown eyes, she was a sweet and lovable lab mix with high energy but maybe more high maintenance than I can handle right now. In my former house, her issues might not have been a problem. The fenced-in yard she was accustomed to was something I couldn’t provide today in my current home and her exuberant barking was something I needed to take into account with my short-fused upstairs neighbor.

Agonized over the choice between these 2 deserving ladies,  I came to a decision.

The Final Rose

Last week while others were going ga ga over Streisand’s new memoir I became besotted with Babs.

She accepted my final rose.

Her owner was thrilled, enthused that I’d give her Babs a great home. A timeline for picking her up in Virginia was discussed. She even shared sweet family videos of Babs and I began to allow myself to slowly envision my life and my home shared with this new member. I made plans where her bed and crate would go, I pictured cuddling on the couch and swimming with this champion swimmer at my beach. After a lifetime of male dogs perhaps what I needed was a mama dog after all. Maybe my heart would begin to heal.

Assured it was settled, I could finally exhale.

Well, my broken heart that hasn’t healed from the loss of Stanley just got broken again.

After ghosting me for a few days, Bab’s owner wrote me late on Friday night that she was selling Babs to someone else. Shattered, I went back and read and reread our many communications. I even shared them with friends who all came to the same conclusion that it was clear we had a deal, and everything was in place.

But there was nothing I could do. It was a good-faith deal, there were no signed papers.

It became another loss and I found myself at a loss for words. I was devastated

Stanley who is never shy about offering his opinion had been curiously very silent when I finally chose auburn colored Babs. He didn’t weigh in at all only to occasionally whisper I needed a blondie.

Maybe he’s right. If I’ve only one life to live, let me live it with a blonde… dog.

Everyone has their nightmare dating experiences and now I do too. I know there will be that right dog for me who will make it past the initial swipe.

And past the rose ceremony and into my loving home.

© Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream, 2023. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sally Edelstein and Envisioning The American Dream with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.