Biscuit Finds a Home

No, I have never been the brightest crayon in the box. I appreciated the rainbows others could arch in their lives, but I was pretty drab really. However, I am violent purple when it comes to feelings. This winter has been one with shades of dark plums, as my heart bruised with compassion and sorrow watching both friends and relatives die and supporting a breaking branch of my family tree.

I have missed a dog here for that several years. Kids gone, grandkids far away, old dogs dead and buried.  The freedom to come and go, no responsibilities was nice, but there was a lonely hole of no one greeting me at the back when I returned…unless you count DH’s face asking what was for dinner!

We each had different tastes in dogs and I have been looking on line the last year for a pup friend. Trips to kennels were torture because I left crying almost every time. If I chose one, how could I look in the eyes of 50 others saying, “Why wasn’t I good enough?”

Last week I found a dog that seemed interesting, and she looked a lot like our much loved grand dog. DH said call and see how big she was as we agreed no big dogs for us at our age. The dog sounded about right, was labeled non-aggressive and loveable. She had been abandoned in a backyard and the city had to pick her up as no one wanted her. BUT….this was not the humane society but a city animal control kill facility. She and three other dogs were top of the list and were scheduled to go down. The attendant could put a hold on her for a day or two…no more. I broke and cried and cried and cried. How could I let one more anything die this winter? DH assured me she would not know I had done it by leaving her there.

 

But several hours later, we were in the car. We agreed I thought to pay for her keep even if she wasn’t right for us. The workers were so good. They stayed late…had her out away from other dogs so we did not see them, and the dog gave us kisses right away. She was about 10 pounds heavier than we wanted and had we known for sure, would not have gone probably. But DH said in less than five minutes, "Let’s take her." We had no crate, no food, no leash, nothing.

 

Thus began a whirlwind of activity and adjustments for all of us! The house that I thought needed cleaning is now really a mess. Dog prints on floor, grass bits on carpet, sloshed drinking water, oh and the house smells like wet dog since it has been raining. Nothing like wet fur and spring mud to give a home a living in feel!

It is responsibility, inconvenience, expense, shredding hair and dirt, but somehow watching DH run in play like a young fellow-well almost--and having a warm face cuddle near my computer chair might mean we got the better part of the bargain. At least Biscuit got another chance at life. Whatever sense I lost here, I hope it was worth it…and I think it will be.