andhiswife | (Reply)

Greta rolls her eyes, albeit fondly. It's hardly a fair comparison. She'd hope any mother would take an immediate liking to their own child (though she knows better than to assume as much), in part because -- aside from the decision to have one or not, and setting aside whatever motherly influence you might have -- you don't really get to choose who you end up with. They grow, and their personalities emerge, and whether you like it or not, you work with what you're given.

It gives her a pang to remember, yet again, that she'll miss all of that with her own son. But before she can fixate on that unpleasant thought, Sadie lands a sloppy lick on her wrist, drawing her back to the present. Greta gives the dog a grateful pat, a fond (if slightly bewildered) smile on her face. Maybe it's not too quick. Maybe it just seems too perfect, and she doesn't trust perfection.

But Demelza's right. This doesn't have to be complicated, despite the way the books and websites have made it sound. Sadie might suit another owner as well as Greta, and another dog might suit her as well as Sadie, but that doesn't mean she's duty-bound to give every animal in here an equal amount of scrutiny. If she held herself to that standard, she'd never choose at all.

"What do you think, Sadie?" Greta asks, and the dog rolls off her lap and pushes herself upright, ears pricked. "D'you want to come home with me?" Sadie tips her head to one side, tail slowly waving. It's unlikely that she understands any of what Greta's said beyond her own name, but she looks as if she's trying. It's incredibly endearing, and Greta can't help but chuckle as she reaches out to ruffle the dog's ears.

"I think you're right," she adds to Demelza. "And anyway, we'd be here all week if we tried to meet all of them properly."