Tuesday, November 24, 2009

The almost dog

I love dogs, and I've never had one of my own. (I couldn't have animals as a child, so my first real pet was my Maine Coon cat, BC, when I was thirty.) I love almost every dog, but I have a special soft spot for bulldogs--particularly English or French, but also American bulldogs and even pit bulls. (I don't blame the breed, I blame stupid people.) I love big dogs, but don't have a fenced yard and need a mellow breed that doesn't need to run several miles a day or herd sheep to be happy. I've never seen an English or French bulldog in a shelter, and I pay attention. Last week a French bulldog suddenly popped up at the local shelter. They were only accepting applications to adopt her on Saturday and Sunday, so Mr. Indra and I went in Sunday, met her, and applied. She was quiet, mellow, and sweet, and we fell in love. Her name was Tessa; she seemed freaked out by the chaos of the shelter, and cuddled into us, licking Mr. Salted's hand. She even liked cats, which is apparently quite rare. They said they would let us know Monday, and that they were moving us up to the top of the list because we didn't have kids, I only work part time, we would put her in dog daycare, etc.

During my breaks at work, I looked into a couple of dog daycare places online and started thinking how fun it could be to have a fuzzy buddy around all the time to take on road trips and to snuggle with while my cats are busy doing what they do best--ignoring me. I wondered if she would wear a sweater when it was cold, if she would snore, and if she would ultimately end up preferring Mr. Salted (as every other animal who meets him seems to do).

The shelter didn't call me all day. I knew we were a long shot because French bulldogs are so popular and so rarely in a shelter, but I allowed myself to get my hopes up. (I've never seen one in a shelter.) I decided to stop by on the way home, and they had chosen another family because the application came in sooner than ours had. It turned out that 20 families had applied to adopt her in that short two-day window. I was glad I stopped by and saw her so I could pet her and tell her to have a wonderful life. I only stayed a minute, and she tried to leave when I did, which was hard. One guy that worked there walked me out, talking about all the other great dogs they had (as if I was a dog snob and hadn't noticed them). There were several standouts: a great big Newfie mix, a beautiful year-old Basset hound, a chocolate Lab with three legs that was nonetheless obviously itching to chase a ball for an hour or 12. They all needed yards. I only wanted Tessa.

I am still a little sad today. I know this isn't the most practical time to get a dog, but she would have fit into our family so well and gotten so much love from us. This was the first attempt I've really made to get a dog. I may still keep my eyes open for another adult Frenchie or mix, but I'm not going to get my hopes up again like I did this time. It's just too hard.

No comments:

About Me

My photo
Seattle, WA, United States
This blog focuses largely on a personal journey to and through weight-loss surgery. It's also about reading, writing, animals, photography, love, humor, music, thinking out loud, and memes. In other words...life.
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.