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Thursday, September 9, 2010


good dog

A day of unforeseen sorrow. This morning I called Twin Oaks Vet to ask if they had room for a dog. They did. Thank you. I took Roscoe in the car. He was happy to be riding, curled up on the seat, happy to be with his human friend. I drove with my feeling for him shut off. It was too complicated a feeling for me to know how to handle it. All I could think was I need to be rid of the dog, now. I carried him in the door, carried him to the desk. Of course, the phone rang. I stood there holding him waiting for the girl to get off the phone. Dog was comfortable in my arms. No struggles. Happy to be held. We really had become friends, which I had to turn my back to. I couldn't keep the dog another day and night. From the time I got up this morning, feelings were not a consideration. Not the dog's feelings, not mine. I had to do what I had to do, take it to someplace where it's puppy dog eyes and that flop ear puts him way up high on the cuteness scale for somebody looking for a dog.

Tapo hadn't eaten since the dog arrived here, stayed hidden outside the first 3 nights. She's lost a good bit of weight. When I found her and brought her to the house, she hid the next 2 days. Caterpillar has been spooked the whole time. I saw I had brought disruption to our peaceful home. I supposed in a few weeks we'd have something worked out, but I couldn't wait that long. It was for the cats I took the dog away, and for myself. My hope was that the dog could become a protector of the cats, protect them from other dogs. But I also remembered telling Tapo and Caterpillar after TarBaby was killed, don't ever trust any dog. Then I bring one in the house. I think that's called sending mixed signals. Returning home in the afternoon after taking dog to the pound in the morning, Caterpillar and Tapo were gone. I felt lonely. I sat and watched the movie MICHAEL CLAYTON wondering where the cats are, calling them from time to time. Around 6 they both came straggling in from wherever they were, one at a time.

In the hours here alone, feeling came back and I kept seeing in my mind my last eye contact with my friend Roscoe. Norma had taken him out to the cage. I was walking from front door to car and looked over that direction and saw him. He saw me. He put his front feet up on the gate so glad to see his friend and I walked on out of sight. I felt like going over to him and saying good-bye, realizing I'd forgotten all about saying good-bye, explaining the situation. I couldn't. I just wanted to get it done and get out of there. Now I want to take some dog biscuits and drive out there to see him, to say good-bye. I've realized by now we had become friends and I'd turned my back on my friend without explanation, warning or anything. It didn't feel good at all. I think things like 2 years from now the dog won't remember. But right now the dog does remember me, his friend who saved him the day I brought him home. I offered him a home, then I threw him away. It's just not right.
I couldn't stand it any more. I had to run out there to see him if they were left out. I doubted they'd be left out, but wouldn't know without going there. It was a sad ride there, wanting to have at least a good-bye. I carried along some dog biscuits. They take the dogs in at night. Not a one in sight. If I want to see him, I have to return in the morning. I miss the little dog incredibly. I didn't realize how much I'd connected with the dog. One week and I'm mourning him as if it had been a year. Such a good dog I didn't want to give up, but thinking about the practical every day and every night part of it, the traumatized cats, me traumatized coming home finding trash strewn about on the floor, here at the house I tend not to miss him.
This morning a call from Winston-Salem hospital. They'd read my "device" and noticed increased heart rate frequently on the 2nd, 3rd and 4th. The 4th was the day the blaster went off. I explained about the dog, realizing I'd been on an emotional rollercoaster all of a sudden. The "device" went off once and almost a 2nd time. This confirmed that I needed to get rid of the dog. I'm ashamed to say that from then on I focused on myself, the inconvenience to myself, the danger to myself, the bother to myself. My attention was on myself all the way to the vet. Going out the door, that one second of eye contact, my attention was still on me. I wanted out of the uncomfortable situation. Later in the day my senses came to me and I realized what I'd done to the dog with consideration for myself only. It was a deep hurt within that I'd abandoned a friend. All I have left is to pray, which I do, that his time with me was a stepping stone to wherever he will live next, the people and the place just right for what he needs and wants for a good life. Please.
When I returned home after driving there and back in sorrow over what I'd done to my friend, I saw all over again that it is an impossible situation here for him. The cats come first. That's simply how it is. They have seniority. This is their home. They were born here. It's not right for me to put the cats through torment so I can have a dog. This morning before I left the house, Martha from next door had come by. Roscoe took to playing. They played chase. Ran in circles, ran and ran. I saw them getting acquainted the first time. I thought it something of a shame to separate them when they could be good friends, Martha the playmate Roscoe needed. I saw them in my mind becoming inseparable friends to ramble together to see the world around them. Then I saw Martha's sister, a 3rd dog, coming into the picture, them becoming a pack, me having to deal with that down the line. Didn't know how I was going to teach the dog to stay out of the road when cars are going by. Back here at the house, practical everyday life images pop up, telling me there's no way the dog can stay. I don't see any reason to fall down dead frustrated over a rowdy dog, which would have been the case Saturday without the blaster. I prefer to believe my prayer will be answered and the dog will have a good life.

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