~ Sucker for a Shelter Dog ~

 

Daylight hadn’t yet arrived as I sat in my car in the dark, virtually empty parking lot. I was not in any of the closest fifteen parking places as I waited for the manager to arrive and unlock the building. I hadn’t been there long when she pulled into her spot in the side lot, much closer to the building. I got out of my car and started walking toward the door.

I always try to be aware of what is happening around me, but I hadn’t noticed a black pick-up parked four lanes over about halfway between my car and the building. I did notice it when I was almost even with it. I picked up my pace a little. It was dark, the manager had disappeared inside, and there was no one else around. I’d just taken another step when a male voice I didn’t recognize called me by name. Well, that was a surprise. Not quite sure what was going on, I slowed down just a little and looked in his direction. I didn’t have any idea who he was.

Just then, two dogs that had been walking at his side came out in front of him. Well, I didn’t know him, but I sure knew the two dogs. They were camp regulars. One was Tawny and the other was Annie. Relieved to see familiar faces, I stopped and waited for them.

The man said he was sorry and hadn’t meant to startle me. He introduced himself as the dad of the two dogs. It was normally their mom who brought them in, but she wasn’t able to do it that day. He said he knew he was kind of early, but asked if I could please take the dogs from him in the parking lot since he was already running a little late for work. I was happy to oblige him. I had plenty of time to get them settled and do my rounds.

It was play time. I brought Annie and Tawny into the big room. Snowball, Cedric, Duchess, and deaf Norton soon joined us. Lady came in, followed by Sassy. This was a nice little group with which to work.

Almost an hour into play time, Kate brought a new dog into the big room. He obviously had some Labrador Retriever in his blood, mixed with something unidentified but large. His was not the coat of a Lab but it was not a long coat either. He was big. He was dirty and pretty darned stinky. He had been abandoned. He was very quiet with an almost sad look. Kate called him Bear.

Of course the other dogs gathered around him, checking him out and wagging at him. Bear wasn’t exactly thrilled with all their attention, but he tolerated it.

Kate explained he was from a local shelter group and had come in for much-needed grooming. No doubt about it, Bear definitely needed a thorough grooming. He had handsome features and a black coat that could only improve once he was clean. Kate thought he would also benefit from some socializing with the campers. I agreed. She left Bear with me and went off to other duties.

After the ritual new-dog greeting, the campers went off to their own activities. Bear attached himself to me and wasn’t anxious to play with the dogs. I wondered about his full background. When I gave him a bit of encouragement, he finally spent a few minutes with Annie, Lady, and Snowball, three other quiet and calm dogs. Sassy and Tawny intimidated him while both Cedric and Duchess ignored him. Little deaf Norton decided to howl.

This sent Bear back to lean on me. I was sitting on the bridge trying to convince Norton everything was good with the world and he could stop howling, which he did eventually. Poor Bear didn’t know what to make of Norton howling. Poor Bear didn’t quite know what to make of the whole camp thing. He spent the rest of the morning glued to my leg and getting as much petting and individual attention as I could give him. That was a lot. I was unwisely and knowingly letting this hulk of a dirty, stinky, rescued dog get to me.

Bear was a mighty sweet dog, and he had certainly wrapped me around his paw. At lunch time, I mentioned to Kate how sad Bear looked and that I hoped he would find a good home. Big mistake.

After morning janitorial duties, I told Bear good-bye as he headed for his much-needed grooming. I headed home where Toby waited. It was about mid-afternoon when my phone rang. Caller ID told me it was work. I should have ignored it. I didn’t.

“Woof, woof, woof. Bow-wow-wow.”

That was what I heard when I answered. Knowing I don’t always hear well, I asked the caller to repeat what they’d said.

“Woof, woof, woof. Bow-wow-wow.”

Okay, same thing. Then it hit me, and I burst out laughing. It was Kate. She had called to convince me in dog-speak to come and pick up a freshly cleaned-up Bear and give him a forever home. I declined, giving her all the reasons why we didn’t need a second dog. Toby would feel bad having to share Tom and me, Bear was a really big dog, Tom would never agree. etc. etc. She wasn’t buying any of it. I told her I’d think about it.

I thought about it for all of about two minutes. Bear really was a nice dog. I ended up calling Tom at work, asking him about the possibility of adding Bear to our family. He said he didn’t think it was a good idea. I kind of whimpered at him, and he agreed to get home as soon as possible and go over to the store and at least meet Bear.

As soon as he pulled in the driveway, I dashed out to the car. We didn’t have much time. The camp would close in half an hour. He drove like the wind, and we got there in record time. I jumped out of the car, raced into the store, and back to camp.

Kate was waiting for us. So was Bear. He looked fabulous, his black coat shining and soft. His aroma was distinctly better than it had been in the morning. I couldn’t believe it was the same dog.

It seems his session with the groomer, combined with a day in the playroom with a bunch of other dogs had perked him right up. He didn’t look sad any more. He wasn’t clinging to a person any more. He had, in fact, become a totally rowdy, completely unruly and boisterous dog. He was normal.

By then, I really couldn’t believe it was the same dog. What in the world had happened to that calm, affectionate dog that had spent the morning oh-so-quietly working his way into my heart? He was still a fine dog, and a good-looking one.

The quiet dog I’d spent time with that very morning had disappeared completely. His shyness was one of the reasons I’d even considered adopting him. That dog would have been an excellent companion for Toby. This new and improved version would have driven poor Toby crazy. It turned out that he just would not be a good match for our family—not for Tom, not for me, and definitely not for Toby.

None of us would have been able to keep up with him. Bear would have been bored to doggy tears in our house. He needed a home with a lot of active kids. Tom and I both felt bad, but we simply couldn’t take him. It wouldn’t have been fair to Toby, and it wouldn’t have been fair to Bear. With all his good points, and he did have many, I was confident he would find a happy, commotion-filled home. He would love that.

It wasn’t an easy decision but we left camp without Bear.

 

I knew better. This showed precisely why I could never work at a shelter.