After my failed attempt of rabbit ownership I was determined to have a pet. I decided I would get a dog after all. I didn't want a small dog. I had a roommate who had yapping little Chihuahua's and that was the last thing I wanted. I preferred big dogs, like Great Danes. A Great Dane would probably be too big for a one bedroom apartment, but it could be done.
I liked the idea of rescuing a dog. I filled out online applications and searched through multiple websites trying to find a suitable dog. I found that one rescue group would have their adoptable dogs outside of a store on a Saturday morning, so I decided to go and visit. There was a medium sized wired hair terrier that was sweet and adorable and available for adoption. For a $150 fee I could take him home. If only it were that easy. There was a 3 page application to fill out and an interview process. I was deemed unfit to adopt from them. It turns out if you want to adopt from a rescue agency you need to lie on the application. I was asked what I would do if I lost my job, and given some choices "a. keep the dog no matter what, b. send him back to the rescue center, c. take him to the pound or d. give him to a friend who could take care of him." I chose d. I would find him a suitable home. They were looking for a. keep him no matter what. I told them that made sense. After all, I see many homeless people on the streets with their dogs and I if I were to lose my job and couldn't pay my bills or my rent or buy food for myself much less an animal it would definitely make sense to KEEP the dog with me on the street than find him a suitable home. They thought I would be a great pet owner, but not for one of their dogs. They told me to try the pound.
The pound was just down the road, and I had my mind made up that I was bringing a dog home, so I decided I would go to the pound. I found the most beautiful Siberian husky. She was black and white with the gorgeous blue eyes and she was so sweet and calm. She was perfect. Even better, it was only $40 to adopt her and I didn't have to fill out 3 pages worth of ridiculous questions. I named her Layla.
My happy bubble would soon pop, though. I kept Layla in the kitchen until I knew she was house broken. I would take her for a walk and she would always go the bathroom and never had any accidents in the kitchen, but the next morning as I tried to put her leash on she darted past me into my living room and dropped a load... a liquidy mix with live worms squirming around. The most horrible smell in the world. I was trying not to vomit on top of it. It was disgusting. It made sense for her to have some stomach issues since she was in the pound and I had to take her to the vet anyway to get her shots. I was responsible for getting her rabies vaccine. The pound was kind enough to send me home with a dog that may or may not have rabies. When I got to the vet for her shots and for some de-worming medications I asked for them to check for heartworms too. The vet came in and told me that she did have heartworms. In fact, a pretty advanced case. She could be treated, but with no guarantee it would work. Heartworm treatment is also pretty expensive and time consuming. He told me I needed to make a decision in the next day or two if they wanted to have a chance of helping her, otherwise she had maybe 2 weeks left to live. I had only had her for 2 days, but I was already attached and now crushed. It was like killing Smokey all over again, but this time I knew what I was doing, having to make a decision between life and death for this poor dog.
I couldn't keep her. I didn't have the money or the time to treat heartworms. I was so mad at the pound. She was sick and they didn't even test her or treat her for anything. I couldn't believe they would send me home with such a sick dog, but I had to take her back. I decided to go to a different county, one that was considered "no-kill". They would try to treat her and if they couldn't they would put her down peacefully instead of letting her die a slow painful death in a cage.
Defeated again, I started to wonder if having a pet was really something for me. It seemed like the cards were stacked against me. I really did want one, but at the same time I couldn't handle a loss or another disappointment.
No comments:
Post a Comment