Hercules

I did not go get Hercules.  I do not have my little man back.  Here’s the story so far…

That night after my blog and panic attack and slew of phone calls to find out what was going on, ( I never managed to get a hold of Michelle) I realized – I’m in no position to take him back.  I live in a spare bedroom of a house with a giant boxer and a five year old autistic child.  But I worried Hercules would be euthanized so I planned on keeping him in a kennel in my car until I could find him a home.

I called most of my friends that I know are dog lovers or in need of a pet, but no one could take him.  So I stressed and stressed and then finally, I got in contact with someone at the shelter.  Firstly, I gave them Michelle’s contact information and let them know she was probably worried sick.  Then I talked to the woman and told her my situation and asked how long they would hold him until he’d get put down.

“He is not scheduled to be euthanized.” She said.

“What? Oh my god! That’s great!”

It turns out that because he passed all his behavior tests he is ready for adoption.  Furthermore he will be going to a rescue organization that has a waiting list of people wanting small dogs of his description.  I couldn’t believe it.  If they can’t get ahold of Michelle – he’s going to be placed with a new home!

So I had a choice to make…

A crate in my Jeep for an unspecified time until I could find him a home and then go through the separation process again – or – Leave him there to be adopted to a new family who will love him.

I left him at the shelter.  

I made the woman on the phone promise me – promise to call me if anything happened and the situation changed.  I made her repeat back to me that if for any reason he was scheduled to be euthanized that she would call me on my cell phone FIRST.  She agreed and didn’t even treat me like a controlling crazy lady.  If it comes to him being put down – I will keep him in my car until I can get him a home.

It was such a relief to know he would be adopted! It seemed like the best, worst case scenario. I’m supposed to call them back on Monday to see if they were able to reach Michelle and if not, which organization he was placed with so I can track his adoption.

While I’m relieved I’m also sad.  It seemed for a moment that I would get him back. It seemed for a second that I would have my little man, but there was that bummer feeling of knowing he’d be in his kennel a lot in a hot car or alone at night. 

Even though I know this is in his best interest – it still feels like I ditched him.  It still feels like I should have tried harder to get an apartment when I got back to Portland, or I should have tried harder to find a way to get him home to me. 

My relationship with Hercules is almost epic – it’s a love/hate mostly love drive each other crazy but I still can’t not feel responsible for him even when I let another woman adopt him with the promise of being his new life home.  As I was stressing and mumbling and blurted my frustration out to a stranger he looked at me and said, “I don’t understand… it’s just a dog.”

How does one sentence make you feel 6 again and your dad has gone out and killed all your bunnies for stew? How does one little sentence make you feel childish/foolish and enraged?  Just a dog. Right. He’s just a dog, and he wasn’t really even my dog anymore – but he is a creature, and more than that, I love him.

I sat wondering if I should cry or laugh and finally have decided that I will do neither – I will instead, sigh and send out a prayer of gratitude that he will be saved and a prayer that the right family, the perfect match for his cranky temperament and need to be loved, will stumble into the rescue organization on the day of his arrival and fall in love with him and take him home. They will have lots of cuddles and microwave popcorn (his favorite) and a patch of carpet in the sun where he will live out the rest of his days in blissful relaxation. 

Universe, it you can hear me – please help my little man, my Herky-Turkey, find a joyful forever home.  I’ll owe you one, a really-really big one.