It's only a day away.

You guys. OH, YOU GUYS. I was going to try and hold this in until tomorrow, because tomorrow is THE DAY, but I can't anymore. I just can't. I'M SO EXCITED. And not Jessie-Spano-caffeine-pill excited, but FOR REAL EXCITED with no stimulants involved whatsoever.

Because tomorrow, you guys, TOMORROW we pick up our dog. WE GOT A DOG. A real one! He wags his tail and everything!

A couple of weeks ago, Heidi found a sweet, little wiener dog on the side of the road. She texted me a picture and I was immediately all, "GIVE HIM TO ME," but she was responsible and took him to a couple of vets in the area to see if anyone recognized him. No one did, so she dropped him off at the Humane Society so they could put out word and see if anyone would claim him. They told her that if no one came in to get him, they'd call her and she'd get, like, first dibs on him or something.

My bridal shower was that weekend, and I asked about the dog almost as soon as I got there. No one had claimed him yet, and I told Heidi to let me know if no one ever did, because the whole thing was making my heart sad.

Fast forward to last Friday. Joe and I were out running errands before going to see Scott Pilgrim again (shut up), and Joe was all, "What ever happened to that wiener dog?" and I was like, "I don't know," and he was like, "TEXT HEIDI TEXT HEIDI," so I did and guess what? No one had claimed him or adopted him. And I was sad face again because POOR SWEET PUPPY.

Then, you guys, something magical happened. You see, Joe and I were waiting until after the wedding and honeymoon to adopt a dog because I didn't want to get a dog and then up and put him in a kennel or something while we were gone. Because it might get sad, you know? But Heidi is a much better person than I am, and when she offered to watch the wiener dog while we were on our honeymoon, there was nothing holding us back. This poor little dog needed a home, we had one, and so we decided that we'd go to the shelter the next day to meet him.

All Friday night long, we tried to reign in our excitement and remind each other that he wasn't our dog. "We might not even like him," we said (yeah right) and, "He might bite our faces off!" we exclaimed. Or WORSE YET, what if someone swooped in and adopted him right out from under our noses? Can you imagine that scene? I would have thrown a tantrum but not before bursting into tears right in front of everyone.

The shelter didn't open until 1 on Saturday and we were impatient, oh were we impatient. Well. Mostly me. I spent most of the morning shouting things like, "I WANT TO GO GET OUR DOG!" and then reminding myself that he wasn't ours. Yet.

Finally, FINALLY, it was time to meet him. We drove to the shelter (which is over an hour away, such was our love) and stood in the lobby for a bit when we got there. There were tiny boxer puppies in cages right next to us and barking dogs in a room next door. A lady in scrubs asked if we'd been helped, I said no, and then explained that we were there to see a dachshund that my friend had brought in.

She took us back to a small room and, when she opened the door, I saw four occupied crates. All but one dog started barking maniacally, that dog, our dog, was a black and tan wiener dog who just looked right at us and wagged his tail.

They'd given him the name "Freddie," because, even though he'd only been there a short time, they didn't want him to be just a number. We took him outside and he plodded along next to us, wagging his tail, only stopping to, well, pee on things. We took him back inside and found someone who worked there. I said something along the lines of, "Soooo, how do we make this happen?" and she explained the process. She asked if we were thinking about adopting him and I didn't tell her that when we'd gone outside, I told Joe we should just throw him in the car and go.

We talked for a good bit about his health and behavior, and how to introduce a dog to a cat (wish us luck on that one) and the whole time our soon-to-be dog just stood or sat there, looking around with interest. HE'S SO GOOD, I kept thinking, while I tried to pay attention to everything the lady was telling us, but I couldn't help but be distracted by his soft, floppy ears or his tail that curls up ever so slightly.

"I have good news and bad news," the lady told us. "The good news is, he's available for adoption. The bad news is, he's not getting fixed until Tuesday so you can't pick him up until after that." I wanted to cry.

We spent some more time with him and finally pried ourselves away, making plans to come back on Thursday (TOMORROW) to pick him up and take him home. We left, excited but a bit sad that we didn't have our dog with us, and immediately went to Petsmart to stock up on dog supplies. I'm pretty proud of us for being so frugal in the toy department. I wanted to buy EVERYTHING but we didn't because A) um, that would have been expensive and B) we don't even know what he LIKES yet, obviously.

We pick him up tomorrow after work and we are so ready. His crate is assembled. We've talked walking and eating schedules. We bought a baby gate in case Phoebe is less than welcoming. We both took Friday off so we could take him to the vet and hang out with him together. Joe wasn't going to, but he said he was afraid the dog would like me more if he wasn't home on his first day there.

We named him Max Fischer after much thought, passing over Captain Malcolm Reynolds and Charlie and Richard (get it?) because obviously if Max Fischer was a dog, he would totally be a wiener dog. I mean that in a good way, I swear.

We're so, so ready for tomorrow. I just hope Phoebe is nice to her new brother. You know. Eventually. Maybe?