Don't feel sorry for me

I realize only a select few will feel sorry for me when they hear my story.
Because I should have known better.
It seems life has found me in nearly identical scenarios more than once.
What Bible says is so true: “As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his folly.”
That’s me. Getting myself back into situations I know should be left in my already digested memories of lessons learned.
But those road-side free puppy stands are so hard to resist. And we were in the market for an Easter present for the kids. What’s a better price than free?
So, Matt and I were suckered in by a cute, little poodle-dachschund 6-month-old puppy.
We called her Sally.
The kids adored her. I tolerated her because I knew  of my children’s and husband’s love of canines.
She road home on my lap to meet her new friends and they were shocked and elated to meet her.
Kadence wanted to snuggle and bond with the apprehensive pup (which I encouraged because I had hoped she would be Sally’s main caregiver), but the fighting began nearly immediately over who should hold her, etc.
And all Sally wanted was me.
“That was understandable,” I consoled myself. “She’ll get over me; this whole situation has got to have her overwhelmed.”
We soon realized that Sally had a very STRONG attraction to me. She never left my side. Ever.
If I went upstairs she followed me up. If I went downstairs, she was right at my heels. While I typed, she dozed at my feet. If I sat on the coach, she took a nap right next to me. She would only go to the bathroom for me. She whined when I put her on the back porch. She howled through the night, because she apparently thought she should get to sleep by me too!
A lot of people (I guess) like this sort of thing. I am NOT one of those people. I like cats. They do their own thing. Come around to eat and then move on. I am a personal space person. Period.
We tried having Kadence walk her around and play with her, sneaking treats along the way. Sally didn’t care about the treats or the attention, she just high-tailed it to wherever I was. Kadence found her and took her back upstairs. Sally baled on her for me and the cycle continued for at least an hour. Kadence gave up.
Then on the Tuesday morning after we got her (a mere three days), I had had enough. Trying to get everybody ready and out the door by 7:30 a.m. is chore enough without having to wait for Sally to “do her thing” and then trip over her for the next hour.
So the search began to find her a new home, and I was punished considerably through the process. I talked  to and e-mailed with dozens of certifiable wack-a-doos and the whole time I was kicking myself for picking up the “free” dog in the first place. For returning to my “vomit” of getting animals before thinking it through (ducks, goose, etc.).
Finally, it seemed we found a perfect match for the dog that couldn’t get enough of me. The little 10-year-old only child and her mom met us in town, took one look at Sally and fell in love.
As I handed the dog over, Sally looked at me with apprehensive eyes asking “What’s going on?” I almost took her back home. But then I remembered her unfounded attachment to me, the howling, the rejection of the kids ... and I made the decision to walk away from the folly and to never (hopefully) do it again.