I’m sitting at home with several puppy training books, an extra-large training crate, a collapsible drinking bowl (in a charming shade of pink), a tiny quick-release collar, and no puppy.

We were supposed to pick up our Golden Retriever this week, but things fell through. Which is an abbreviated way of saying I developed concerns about the puppy, started getting that sickening feeling of dread and fear in my gut that tells me my intuition is up to something, tried to ignore that sickening feeling, couldn’t sleep at all one night, and finally realized I had better listen to my gut.

So we walked away from our perfect puppy.

It was the right thing to do, of course, but now I’m sitting in a house without a puppy. Which I realize is nothing to complain about, being a first-world problem if there ever was one.

Fortunately, there’s a dog park nearby. And everywhere we go, someone is offering us a chance to play with a puppy.