When It’s Time to Give Up Your Dreams

I don’t think I ever would have made it in Hollywood, but all I wanted when I was a teen was to be an actor. I wanted bright lights, big lines, and an Oscar (of course). One of the reasons I don’t think I would have worked out is this: I know when to quit. I get the sense that Hollywood only rewards the lucky, the nepo-babies, and the never-give-uppers. And sometimes, it’s nice being a giver-upper.

I’m lucky to have achieved many, many dreams: spent a few years as a ski bum, went to the World Cup, auditioned for Jeopardy! (still waiting on that callback). But not all dreams are meant to come to pass. And I am in the midst of putting a pretty important dream to rest right now: being a dog mom.

I had a wonderful (very dumb, very fluffy) dog as a kid, and even when it felt like everyone hated me and I had no friends, I knew I had her. So as the years of singledom have droned on, I’ve gotten more and more serious about getting a dog. Some part of me saw a dog as a surrogate to a baby or a partner - something to love you unconditionally, give structure to your life, and be the object of the deep love I have to give. On Nov 6th, I even promised myself that the presidential election result was clear proof that I needed a dog and a better vibrator.

Over the last 5 years, as my friends have married, had kids, bought houses, I’ve given dogs a very good shot. I’ve fostered three of them, all more or less selected to my criteria of male, small/medium and older (aka less energetic, more mellow).

The third foster arrived this week and he is the sweetest older gentleman who will be with me for a few weeks. But as soon as I brought him home, I knew it was a mistake. This is literally my THIRD RODEO as a prospective dog mom and each time, I’ve been overwhelmed, anxious and completely fallen apart when realizing I suddenly have to care for this being 24/7. Each time, the dog is sweet and cute and could not be more lovable. And yet, each time, I know I’ve made a terrible decision.

So I’m declaring it: my dog mom dreams are dead. For at least a long, long, long time. My takeaway consistently seems to be “I would be a lot more comfortable with this if I had a partner to split the burden” and yet I insist on doing this over and over to myself because I don’t have a partner. I need to stop using a dog (which has no good place in my life right now) as a substitute for a partner. It’s not.

It’s ok to give up on some dreams. They don’t have to be substituted with another dream (I’m just not a cat gal), they don’t need to be papered over and it doesn’t have to be a letdown to put these dreams aside. It’s a sign of my own evolution, my own exploration, my life of my own making that the dreams I had as a child don’t hold up. Teenage me could never have guessed as to where my life would lead, and I think she’d be surprised in a good way about where I am now. Dog or not, new dreams are on the horizon. And maybe a pet turtle.