Sadness

After months of posting ads on craigslist and every other "lost/found" dog website I could find, putting ads in the newspaper, putting up flyers, begging rescue organizations to help me find a home for my stray dogs - all to no avail - I had to take one of the dogs to the pound last night. It broke my heart. I chose the dog that had caused me the most trouble - she chewed everything, loved to drag my stuff outside through the doggie door and destroy it, and got loose and got pregnant, to boot. But she also would curl up by my feet, rest her sweet, soft furry face on my knee, and look at me with absolute adoration. And I took her to the pound.

As soon as we got there, she started crying. So did I. She hid under my chair while we waited in the lobby for the "intake process" to begin. She pressed herself as far up against the back of my legs as she could and shivered and shook the whole 15 minutes we had to wait.

And I bawled all the harder when they took her. She cried and scrambled to get back to me. The absolute betrayal she felt was clear. I know I had no choice, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Not one bit. I'll miss you, Li'l Bit. I hope they find you a forever home, but I know the odds are against it.

I wish I were young enough to delude myself into believing they'll find her a home right away. That they'll be able to find someone to love her and care for her, train her out of destroying stuff. But I know the pound only holds stray dogs for four days before they deem them "adoptable" or euthanize them. If a dog does, miraculously, get deemed "adoptable", they only hold them for about a week in the pound before they destroy them. And in that week, sweet, loving dogs are held in cold, concrete cages. No freedom to run and play. No one to rub them behind their ears or find that special "tickle spot" that makes them kick their legs and get a look of absolute bliss on their faces. They're kept locked in cages, where I'm sure they wonder what they did wrong, why their people don't love them anymore, why, why, why.

I know I had no choice. These stray dogs are killing me - financially, emotionally, and just the hassle. It's part of what's keeping me up all night. I exhausted every other possibility. Again, it doesn't make me feel any better. Not one bit.

Buddy scared the poo out of me...

Handily, I was on the toilet at the time. See, Buddy (formerly my father's dog) has a new hobby - chasing the ginormous cockroaches (oh, excuse me, "palmetto bugs") that occupy this house. They are bigger than my thumb! I was minding my own business, well, doing my business, in the bathroom when Buddy started attacking the bottom of the bathroom cabinet. He then snorted, snuffled and picked up in his mouth the aforementioned cockroach. Apparently, the wriggling legs in his mouth tickled, so he kind of tossed it out with a shake of his head. Then he started chasing it again. Unfortunately, he chased it all the way around the toilet, under my foot and UP MY LEG! I screamed, squealed and swiped at my leg, sending that little sucker sailing into the study. Then Buddy tore after it, only to catch it again and then, you guessed it, again with the tickly legs in the mouth bit, and Buddy tossed it again. Meanwhile, I'm hastily getting off the porcelain throne and trying to find the alcohol so I can disinfect the bottom of my foot and my leg. Have I mentioned that cockroaches hit the top of my "oh, ICK" list? By this time, the stupid cockroach is streaking right back to the bathroom where it can slip between the cracks on the baseboards. I wound up jumping right over the durn thing, then hopping up on my bed where I would be relatively safe from the stupid bugs. Five minutes later, Buddy chased a cockroach, I assume it was the same one, into my room, then tossed it UP ON THE BED WITH ME! AAAAAGGGHHHHHH! That stupid dog is going to drive me insane, I know he is.

And where was Jamie during this whole exchange, you wonder? Only egging Buddy on, pointing out where the cockroach was, then laughing his fool head off at my antics. I didn't know who I wanted to smoosh more, the bug, the dog, or my kid. Yes, folks, everything IS bigger in Texas. Even the bugs. Damnit.