pup story, part 3
Puppy was a really good dog, and if we hadn't already had two, we certainly would have kept her. But as it was, she was not a good match for our family. We were determined to find a home for her, but it had to be a good home.
Someone who saw the flyer called to say she needed a dog, and she had a lot of room in her basement. I said, "You can't keep her in a basement, she'll be miserable, she'll bark all day - she needs to live with your family." To which the person replied, "Oh, she's a family dog?" - the way you'd say, "Oh, you have three heads?"
At work, that became the catch-all phrase for bad dog-parenting and bad dog adoptions: "Ohhh, she's a family dog?"
A month went by. We managed.
A co-worker (not someone I knew, someone from a different shift) wanted Puppy. After much discussion, Second Foster Mom came uptown and took Puppy away. I cried.
It didn't work out.
SFM's husband didn't really want a dog, and he wasn't patient enough for a pup. Puppy needed more house-training, and the family wasn't home enough to be consistent. It was a classic illustration of why so many dogs end up homeless.
I was ready to take Puppy back and continue our search, when SFM struck gold. A family who had recently lost a beloved dog and was on their way to a shelter to adopt a new one - a great sign - saw the flyer. We were told that when they went to SFM's house, Puppy was going nuts, running around like a maniac with SFM's son's friends. New Family saw Puppy at her worst, but fell in love. New Family renamed her "Maggie", and took her home.
Despite my best efforts, I never heard from anyone about Puppy/Maggie again. New Family was experienced with dogs, and with rescues, so I was hopeful. But I never knew for sure.
Here's the last thing I heard about Puppy. New Family's mom was a little person - a dwarf. Dad was a regular sized guy. Puppy slept in their bed, in the space below Mom, next to Dad's legs.
I hope she had a good life.
* * * *
Here are Clyde and Puppy watching squirrels in the nearby parkette. Clyde is the black and white one. They were almost the exact same size.
Someone who saw the flyer called to say she needed a dog, and she had a lot of room in her basement. I said, "You can't keep her in a basement, she'll be miserable, she'll bark all day - she needs to live with your family." To which the person replied, "Oh, she's a family dog?" - the way you'd say, "Oh, you have three heads?"
At work, that became the catch-all phrase for bad dog-parenting and bad dog adoptions: "Ohhh, she's a family dog?"
A month went by. We managed.
A co-worker (not someone I knew, someone from a different shift) wanted Puppy. After much discussion, Second Foster Mom came uptown and took Puppy away. I cried.
It didn't work out.
SFM's husband didn't really want a dog, and he wasn't patient enough for a pup. Puppy needed more house-training, and the family wasn't home enough to be consistent. It was a classic illustration of why so many dogs end up homeless.
I was ready to take Puppy back and continue our search, when SFM struck gold. A family who had recently lost a beloved dog and was on their way to a shelter to adopt a new one - a great sign - saw the flyer. We were told that when they went to SFM's house, Puppy was going nuts, running around like a maniac with SFM's son's friends. New Family saw Puppy at her worst, but fell in love. New Family renamed her "Maggie", and took her home.
Despite my best efforts, I never heard from anyone about Puppy/Maggie again. New Family was experienced with dogs, and with rescues, so I was hopeful. But I never knew for sure.
Here's the last thing I heard about Puppy. New Family's mom was a little person - a dwarf. Dad was a regular sized guy. Puppy slept in their bed, in the space below Mom, next to Dad's legs.
I hope she had a good life.
* * * *
Here are Clyde and Puppy watching squirrels in the nearby parkette. Clyde is the black and white one. They were almost the exact same size.
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