Just an update on the puppy situation: It is not as easy as you think it is.
|(Not me. But this is how I felt.)|
I went to the humane society with the daschund/beagle mix I talked about in the preceding post, and he wasn’t there (sent to obedience training, apparently). As an alternative, they offered me another puppy, just three months old, an itty bitty, somewhat raggedy-looking little guy — a Tibetan terrier/maltese mix, a true darling called Boudreaux. He’d just been napping, so he was a bit sleepy. It was almost love at first sight, but I didn’t want to impulsively sign up for the first one that I came across, so I asked to go to the kennel and take a look at the other dogs available for adoption.
I love dogs of all shapes and sizes, but with my physical condition being as it is (including the permanent lack of height and being female), the ideal type of puppy to invest in is small. (Forget the small dog syndrome stereotypes — that only happens thanks to poor training on our part.)
I checked out a medium-sized Brittany spaniel mix that resembled a golden retriever, but he was a bit too aloof for me though totally adorable. He would have grown too big, anyway. (We all know the kind of dog that could potentially break into a sprint and drag me on a leash is the last thing I am looking for.)
So I asked to see Boudreaux again. This little guy was tiny, quiet, and perfectly content to lie across my lap indefinitely. When I put him on the ground, he would wander a little and then turn right back to me. If it wasn’t love at first sight, it certainly was love at second. Rather than his scraggly looks, I was hooked by the sweet personality.
Supposedly he was an active little fellow, according to his foster caregiver, but that was fine with me. As long as he wouldn’t require sprinting rather than walking, we were fine.
But it was not to be. The lady at the shelter in charge of adoption papers rambled for something like fifteen minutes, trying to convince me to change my mind as though I had no idea what I was getting myself into. And maybe I didn’t — and still don’t — because I’ve never owned a dog before. But you never know until you try, right? And it seemed this woman was dead set on not letting me even take that chance. And unwilling to open her eyes to what was in front of her: a girl used to challenge and coming out on top, and most importantly, a willingness to provide a loving home to a stray animal.
I’ve since been back twice in an attempt to revisit the little guy, but they’ve successfully kept us apart. (Today I was told he’d been adopted just a few hours prior, which I’m dubious about, but in any case I’ve been extremely turned off by this shelter and won’t be back there.) I made a pledge to the Humane Society a long time ago to always adopt from shelters rather than support cruel puppy mills, but I had no idea some of their branches, under the guise of caring for the well being of their animals, are anything but humane to the people that try to abide by their flawed system.
If there is anything I know how to play, though, it’s the tenacity game. May the best (wo)man win.
To our healing,