First, a New Years non-binding resolutions update: Things are progressing, albeit more gradually than I would like. I’m trying not to freak out about it. That’s why these resolutions were non-binding: all the motivation of a resolution, at leas 25% less guilt.
So the real story: what happened with THE DOG. So about a month ago, I adopted an adorable dog named Veronica. She had a sweet face and a sad story. The first couple days I had her, I did not so much sleep. I was anxious because the dog was nervous, which made the dog more nervous which made me more anxious. I understand that this is common when you first adopt a dog. But the levels to which I responded to this emotionally were not. I didn’t sleep, and I didn’t eat. I was constantly on edge.
While the dog did calm down some after the first night or two, she never settled at my place. She always seemed weary or leary, maybe both. She needed constant physical affirmation to be sure I wasn’t leaving, and when I did, she was miserable and vocal. And I felt horrible for leaving her. (Did I mention that I was not processing this in a normal way? Because I was not.) She responded well to training, but, again, she never seemed settled. And then, when my sister came to stay with me briefly, the dog lost it. She was wary of my sister and barked at her, wouldn’t come near her, even when bribed with treats.
After a while, it became clear that I couldn’t handle the dog and that she was unhappy in my home. Call me weak; I certainly called myself that. I didn’t know what to do. I never thought I would be the person who takes a dog back after adopting. And I didn’t want something terrible to happen to what I knew to be a good dog.
When it all got to be too much, Scott sweetly let me keep the dog at his place, and I stayed with him so that she wouldn’t feel abandoned despite the change in locale. While at Scott’s, there was a noticeable change in the dog. She was around people most of the day (Scott’s roommate gets off work at about 3:00), and she had more space to roam. If Scott or Wil had wanted to adopt, I would have payed for her to stay with them. But the truth is, I was the one who wanted a dog.
Ultimately, I decided to take Veronica to a local no-kill shelter. I adopted her from a kill shelter, and I didn’t want to take her back there. I was fortunate that they accepted her, and I believe she has now been adopted. I still want to own a dog, and I believe I will make a good pet owner. After all, I’ve had a dog or dogs for the majority of my life. What Veronica needed, and what I could offer her were not a good match. I know now that I won’t adopt while I live in my current place, which sucks because I really don’t want to move.
I take comfort in the fact that most everyone around me said that I seemed totally different, in a negative way, while the dog was in my care. I will always feel like I did her a disservice by not keeping her, but I still think it was the best thing. I’m also glad that because I did adopt her, she was not put down. If I had never come into her life, it’s likely she would have been put down. (She was scheduled to be euthanized the day I put in my application to adopt her.) I’ll never feel great about this story, but at least there was a happy ending for Veronica.





