Thursday, August 26, 2010

So do what you must. Do all you can.

Yesterday was an emotional nightmare.

I've been sleeping like rotten garbage again so I was already snarling when the alarm went off. Then the typical "Good Morning" text I get from Todd said, "Yuck. Santo ran away". It wasn't even 6:00am and my day was already a clusterfuck.

Everyone knows I'm not a dog person but finding out that your dog (Shelby is Todd's, Santo is MY snugglebug) has been missing overnight is horrible. I couldn't help wondering if he was hurt or scared or hungry or had been stuck in the rain. And I knew Shelby would be an emo wreck, if dog's can be emo wrecks, without him.

It's really  a long story why they weren't at the new house. Not getting into it.

So I had a mini-breakdown. Made a flier, wallpapered social networking with his picture and info, and let me tell you, I have some of the most AWESOME friends. Everyone rallied. Karl even made an internet flier and people reposted it. It was heart warming. But it was also so unreal.

I left work and went to the W. 7th kennel which was like walking into that Sarah McLaughlin commercial. Row after row of doomed dogs, mostly pitbulls. I called Little Jen and bawled on my way to the APL. Once I got there, they told me no one had brought in huskies but two other people had LOST huskies, damn Houdini dogs! From there I went to the county kennel which was a much nicer facility but still had the same 72 hour policy. 72 hours and those poor dogs are going to doggy heaven. I can never go back there. EVER.

The warden at the county kennel must've felt bad for me. I was sniffling and swollen and a mess. She told me not to give up hope. To tell my neighbors and my mailman. But Santo was out there with no tags...he ate through his collar...and we didn't live there anymore so if he found his way back, who would be there? I really hated myself and hated Todd. But I had to keep trying. I couldn't just lay down and die.

Went back to the old house hoping he'd be on the porch all wide-eyed and dopey. No such luck. And Shelby had a look of depression on her face...though she always looks sad due to her dog eyebrows. Stopped in to the Westpark Animal Hospital with my flier and...


A couple brought him in to see if he was a patient but he wasn't. The nurse called the couple who agreed to walk the dog (they had been calling him Whitey) to the end of their street...he made it a decent stretch away from home. When they rounded the corner, she left go of the leash and Santo came bounding into my arms.

I told him her was grounded for life.

After a celebratory drink, Todd and I loaded up the dogs and their cages and headed to Castle Grayskull. They are officially settled in at the new digs. And eventhough Santo is grounded for life, both dogs got new bones. It eased my guilt a little.

But I should have felt great! He was home and safe! But no, a little neighborhood bastard ruined it for me. He waltzed into our backyard without asking to look at the dogs and when he saw that I saw him, he ran. THEN was shouting something about how my dogs need to be put down or turned into hot dogs. THEN he threw a STICK at my dogs!

If he throws another stick, I'll throw it back.

So that's the story. Thanks again to everyone for being so awesome and helpful and concerned. It's really cool to know that there are people you can count on to be in your corner. I still might not be a dog person but I'm a MY DOGS person. And I never want either of them to have a 72 hour countdown. EVER.

I need our Quentin Tarantino marathon more than ever. Sheeesh.

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