This should be yours.

As I sit here with her in my lap, I can’t help but ask myself, “How did you get here again?” What was I thinking? I’m struggling with all the feelings that any of you with furkids will understand. Is it too soon? Should I have done more? Should I have made the decision sooner? Is it the right decision? Is it selfish? Am I selfish?  How to know? It’s impossible to know. We tell you when you come into the clinic that you’ll know when it’s time to let go. It isn't that easy, though. We know it isn't. All we can tell you is that if you feel like it’s time, it’s time. But never is there a decision harder to make than when is it time to let go of a pet.

Harley was a good girl. She was a Great Dane/Great Pyrenees mix and the only dog I've even gotten as a puppy. She lived a good long life and her death was traumatic for both me and for Wiley, my (at the time) 15 year old Border Collie mix. We were both kind of lost after her death, wandering the house looking for that thing that was missing which was her. I went to the shelter for the first time ever to adopt a dog. I was looking for a medium sized, middle aged mixed breed. Someone to keep Wiley and me company and to give us some focus after such a painful loss.

I walked around the corner and there he was. The cage card read “Dachshund, male, 17 years old, owner surrender.” I stopped looking immediately. He was coming home with me. My heart broke at the thought of a dog living for 17 years with one person or family, and then getting dropped at the shelter. It's the lack of understanding that breaks my heart. Extenuating circumstances or not, they don’t understand why they’re there. They don’t understand where their family is. They don’t understand what has happened to them. My heart breaks. I tried to tell myself stories about the situations that could have led up to this little boy ending up in the shelter. Maybe they were deployed. Maybe they were sick. Maybe…. I wanted to believe the best. I told him that it was ok. That I was breaking him out of this joint. My first special needs adoption came home with me. I dubbed him Hebrew National and called him Natty for short. The first day home, he bit me right in the face. I laugh when I remember it now, but I was pissed. I told him I’d take his little wiener dog ass right back to the shelter! You can probably guess that that didn't happen. I’m guessing that he wasn't truly 17 when I adopted him because that little guy lived for 2 years! He brought me 2 years of joy. When I lost him, he gave me the greatest gift I could have asked for. He curled up in his bed and passed in his sleep. If only that could happen with all of them… Meet Natty.

Since I have SUCKER written on my forehead, I got a call in October 2013 that there was an owner surrender husky mix at the shelter who had health issues and who needed a home. Again, I tried to tell myself that there were surely extenuating circumstances. That no one who had a dog for 12 years could ever dump it at that shelter without a good reason.  Enter Yahtzee.  She was beautiful and fluffy and soft, and she would bite the shit out of you if you did ANYTHING she didn't like. She loved, however, pets and scratches and food and lovings. She was a sweet girl with a low threshold for anything unpleasant and a bad heart which caused her to turn blue if she was under any sort of duress at all. That made treating her issues challenging, but we worked it out. Yahtzee spent 16 months with my family. It was so hard to make the decision to let her go, because there were things that could have helped the symptoms of her illnesses, but I couldn't get those things to her because of her temperament. She was the first rescue that brought me to the difficult decision that I've made today. Is it too soon? Am I too late? Am I being selfish? The guilt and questioning and self-doubt can be overwhelming. The question that it comes down to is: “Is she having any fun?” She wasn't having fun anymore. In February I let her go. Meet Yahtzee.

Last October, I got tagged on Facebook. Damn you, Facebook. A 12 year old owner surrendered Dachshund in need of a home. There was no sugar coating this. He was a breeding dog who had developed a skin condition and instead of taking him to a vet, his “owner” took him to the shelter. Enter Sargent Pinochle. His skin condition is chronic, as well as the sinus problem he seems to have. He’s been a bit of a money pit, but I am completely smitten with him. “Knuckles” as I call him, is pure joy. He loves toys! I've never had a dog who loved toys! He walks around the house squeaking them and sleeps curled up with them. He is handsome and kind and gentle and has won my heart. I pray that he is with me a long, long time.Meet Knuckles.

Since the first Facebook tag was so effective, they tried it again. Second verse, same as the first. A 12 year old Miniature Pinscher. Her former “owners” didn’t have the decency to take her to the shelter – too ashamed, I’m assuming. She was dumped in a driveway in the country. Twelve years old. Nine and a half pounds. Dumped. Outside. Alone. Based on the condition of her body, she was also a breeding dog. But let me tell you guys, a sweeter little girl has never existed. She won my heart the first second I met her. I went to the shelter and adopted her the first morning she was available. She was meant for me. I was sure of it. I brought her home and she wagged her little nubbin and followed me around and jumped in my lap and I fell head over heels in love with this little girl. My sweet little Jenga. The day was April 21. When her bloodwork came back the next day, it wasn’t good. Lyme Disease. Renal failure. Heart murmur. That was 20 days ago. Her health declined very quickly. She’s sitting here in my lap and I can see every bone in her spine. And I’ve had the conversation. You know the one. Is it too soon? Should I have let her go sooner? Am I selfish? Should I try more things? But what it comes down to is this: Do I continue to watch this poor sweet soul starve and try to treat her symptomatically so I can feel like I tried everything, or do I let her go? She isn’t having fun anymore and my heart is broken. Twenty days. She won my heart in one hour and she broke it in 20 days. I was so happy the day I brought her home. I'm so sad today. Meet Jenga. She was a part of my family for 20 days. 

These guys love us with every fiber of their being. They deserve to be loved until the end. Please realize that when you bring in a pet you are making a commitment to be there until the end and no, it isn't going to be easy. No old dog or cat should ever end up in a shelter. No breeding animal should ever be discarded when their usefulness is over. Love them. Keep them. Honor them. They would NEVER leave us.

I don’t want to go through this again. Right now in this moment, I don’t want to feel this again, ever. I don’t want to be the one to love your elderly pet when you chose not to anymore. I don’t want to be the one to walk through the pain that should have been reserved for you. This is the deal we make when we take them in. They will give us years of love and happiness and loyalty and joy and then we will outlive them and it will hurt like hell. That’s what we sign up for. You don’t get to skip that part. You don’t get to be the selfish one. How dare you allow me to feel selfish and guilty and sadness and pain? That’s yours. That should be yours. That’s what you agreed to.

Tomorrow I’ll probably feel differently. I've been told that pain shared is pain halved. Thank you for sitting in my pain with me today. 

For Wiley and Parcheesi and Natty and Alfred Abraham Lincoln and Yahtzee and Sergeant Pinochle and for this sweet little soul Jenga – don’t shop, adopt. Rest in peace, sweet girl. You were loved.