Dick
Senior HTF Member
- Joined
- May 22, 1999
- Messages
- 9,913
- Real Name
- Rick
George Carlin called (many of) our lives "A series of dogs," and this has certainly been true of me. And I just lost another one. Not, fortunately, to death this time, but to adoption.
I recently had my right hip replaced, and had to find a way of giving my dog, Sarah, the care she needed. Huge caveat -- this wonderful mix of rat terrier, pomeranian and chihuahua (now, there's a perfect storm of nervous, hyper breeds!) was too crazy to leave with friends while I recouped. She was pretty much untrainable despite my efforts to socialize her. I had adopted her back in 2014 because the shelter couldn't find her another home, and I fell in love with her online photo (my current avatar to your left)...but she was wild and undisciplined, and did not like children or other animals. With me, however, she was an angel and a loving companion. But enter any other person into my apartment, and weighing only ten pounds, she thought she was a doberman.
In fact, I was pretty confident I would be able to recover from my surgery before someone else adopted her from the shelter I had to return her to. After all, she'd been available for a full three months before I took her on. Surely six weeks of convalescence wouldn't be too long a time to expect she'd remain unclaimed.
But, fifteen days after I rather tearfully surrendered her, she was gone. Good for her if she has landed a stable new home with someone who will truly love her. No dog (or cat, etc.) should suffer homelessness. These are intended to be domestic animals, and should not be born feral into the world just because someone never bothered to spay or neuter them. They are wholeheartedly social creatures and want nothing more than to live with an alpha human who provides them with safety, shelter, food, and love.
Friends say, "You can always get another dog..."
I live in an apartment that is only large enough for me and my furniture, and a tiny dog. How often do tiny terriers turn up for adoption at shelters? It's rare, as they are usually the first to go. I was fortunate, but lightning rarely strikes twice. Besides, Sarah was my dog. She is the third I have had since 1997. First was a full-bred German Shepherd, who I had to give away when she bit someone. Next came a beautiful, affectionate shepherd/husky mix, who I had to put down when she became too lame to get around (long story, and I still feel like a murderer).
I am almost 70 years old, and a little dementia has set in. Do I really want to subject yet another dog to my own infirmities? Plus, my left hip will need replacing eventually.
What I am really missing about Sarah is.. well, everything. That little face staring at me as her front paws rest on my leg, telling me she wants something...food, a walk, some attention. Her nightly burrowing under my comforter to curl up against my leg, where she remains unmoving until I get up in the morning. The fact that she hardly shed at all, had no odor or bad breath, and was a perfect fit in this living space.
So, I continue to heal and expand my walking territory back to the one I had before the osteoarthritis set in. But one thing, of course, is missing... a little terrier trotting more or less beside my left ankle.
Dogs get under our skin and intertwine with our very DNA. The prospect that Sarah was my last dog ever, for a number of reasons, leaves me empty. Time to spend more time with my human friends, I guess.
I recently had my right hip replaced, and had to find a way of giving my dog, Sarah, the care she needed. Huge caveat -- this wonderful mix of rat terrier, pomeranian and chihuahua (now, there's a perfect storm of nervous, hyper breeds!) was too crazy to leave with friends while I recouped. She was pretty much untrainable despite my efforts to socialize her. I had adopted her back in 2014 because the shelter couldn't find her another home, and I fell in love with her online photo (my current avatar to your left)...but she was wild and undisciplined, and did not like children or other animals. With me, however, she was an angel and a loving companion. But enter any other person into my apartment, and weighing only ten pounds, she thought she was a doberman.
In fact, I was pretty confident I would be able to recover from my surgery before someone else adopted her from the shelter I had to return her to. After all, she'd been available for a full three months before I took her on. Surely six weeks of convalescence wouldn't be too long a time to expect she'd remain unclaimed.
But, fifteen days after I rather tearfully surrendered her, she was gone. Good for her if she has landed a stable new home with someone who will truly love her. No dog (or cat, etc.) should suffer homelessness. These are intended to be domestic animals, and should not be born feral into the world just because someone never bothered to spay or neuter them. They are wholeheartedly social creatures and want nothing more than to live with an alpha human who provides them with safety, shelter, food, and love.
Friends say, "You can always get another dog..."
I live in an apartment that is only large enough for me and my furniture, and a tiny dog. How often do tiny terriers turn up for adoption at shelters? It's rare, as they are usually the first to go. I was fortunate, but lightning rarely strikes twice. Besides, Sarah was my dog. She is the third I have had since 1997. First was a full-bred German Shepherd, who I had to give away when she bit someone. Next came a beautiful, affectionate shepherd/husky mix, who I had to put down when she became too lame to get around (long story, and I still feel like a murderer).
I am almost 70 years old, and a little dementia has set in. Do I really want to subject yet another dog to my own infirmities? Plus, my left hip will need replacing eventually.
What I am really missing about Sarah is.. well, everything. That little face staring at me as her front paws rest on my leg, telling me she wants something...food, a walk, some attention. Her nightly burrowing under my comforter to curl up against my leg, where she remains unmoving until I get up in the morning. The fact that she hardly shed at all, had no odor or bad breath, and was a perfect fit in this living space.
So, I continue to heal and expand my walking territory back to the one I had before the osteoarthritis set in. But one thing, of course, is missing... a little terrier trotting more or less beside my left ankle.
Dogs get under our skin and intertwine with our very DNA. The prospect that Sarah was my last dog ever, for a number of reasons, leaves me empty. Time to spend more time with my human friends, I guess.