By Erin Ferrell, Columnist

Readers, let me tell you. I have not slept more than four hours a night for the last two weeks. Is it because I have been up late striving to finish one or more of my many millions of English papers? Is it because I am a wild and crazy col­lege kid hellbent on promiscuity and alcoholism? Sadly, no. It’s neither of these things.

Erin Ferrell

It’s Pumpkin.

What is that? You’re losing sleep because of a brightly colored squash, delicious in cakes, pies and the occa­sional soup, the seeds of which can be toasted and consumed?

No, you see, Pumpkin is a six month-old, eight-pound Dachshund Poodle mix puppy that I’m helping my Mom foster. We got her through a local organization called Dogs as Family, which places stray and shelter dogs in good homes. We’ve worked with Brenda, the head of the organization for many years.

Pumpkin is literally the cutest thing ever. She looks like a Wire- Haired Dachshund, but with a Poodle-texture to her hair. To my knowledge, she has no bones. She rolls as much as she walks and when you pick her up, she melds her little warm body against yours. She has feather fur on her paws, which she waves in an inverted V pattern when she judges our belly rubs to be insufficient.

Did I mention she’s up for adop­tion? Well she is, just in case you have a relative in the market for a floppy puppy. She’s a stray. Some of my mother’s friends found her wandering the streets of the Village.

From her initial skittishness, ema­ciation and tendency to flinch when we made a move to touch her, we surmised that she was badly neglected and probably abused. Now, she’s running around with my herd of Dachshunds and Chi­huahua mixes, ears flopping, tongue hanging out to the side of her mouth.

Like any puppy that hasn’t been given proper care, she’s not potty trained. And she’s demonstrating this all over my carpet, which is driving my Mom insane. By “insane,” I mean that Pumpkin is getting behind the wheel of a car and driving it, with my mother in the passenger’s seat, straight to crazy town.

But despite my lack of sleep (Pumpkin is very vocal about her dislike of crate training), and my Mom’s descent into madness, it’s worth it. Taking care of sweet babies like Pumpkin, unwanted and mistreated, is something I will always do.

There’s a special moment that happens every time, with every foster, where the dog realizes that they are safe here, with plenty of food and playmates, and a warm human to snuggle up to at night. I wouldn’t trade that moment for all the sleep in the world.

This editorial originally appeared on Page 2 of the October 6th, 2010 issue of The Campus.