These Are The Dog Days Of Our Lives

So… I have a confession.

I lied to y’all.

Granted, I thought it was the truth at the time. Because who/what besides our landlord, the temperament test, or the foster puppy raiser could possibly deny me a puppy?

The Humane Society, apparently.

Long story short: Teddy is a no-go.

Long story long: Disclaimer: As most–if not all–of you know, I’m going to get a mobility dog. Hence, (s)he can’t be spayed/neutered before eighteen months old. Preferably until two years old. According to my trainer, if the dog gets fixed before the growth plates close, it can result in hip displaysia and unsteady joints setting in early or period. I need my dog to help with my own joint issues, so not only would this be inhumane, but kind of a moot point. And stupid.

PAUSE. Now, this this situation is just about as controversial as vaccines, gun control, whether or not Texas should secede (it’s a thing, non-Texans!), and medical marijuana. In a word: EXTREMELY. As with some of the above questions, there’s really no middle ground. You either agree it’s this way or that it has nothing to do with fixing the dog. We are not here to discuss the pros and cons of any of these stances. Suffice it to say: there are differing viewpoints, and it doesn’t really do any good to argue with someone on the other side of the issue. It’s not going to change the other’s mind, all it’ll result in is needing to prepare fewer Christmas gifts.

UNPAUSE. I find out Teddy passed the temperament test March 8th. Teddy gets fixed March 13. Our landlord okay’d a Service dog in training on the 10th. No big deal, right? I just have a three-day deadline to adopt him. Because I’m an impatient shmuck and don’t want to wait for my life-saving medical canine companion, we go to the humane society on the 10th. The paperwork was filled out before we left home, everything’s good, I’m getting a doggy today, right?

Wrong. Apparently, the Fort Worth Humane Society location doesn’t allow adoptions without getting the dogs fixed first. No exceptions in the history of ever. Dang.

On the way home, I text my trainer, telling her the little hiccup and asking for her counsel.

Her response? “So, I do have a lead on a 4-month-old black lab mix who has potty trained and started obedience. He’s unaltered and available.”

…

Um… so… no Teddy Bear?

Not necessarily. We had gotten the senior director of operation’s number from her assistant, as he was the only one we could see; as an assistant, he didn’t have the authority to do anything about it. So, we figured we’d call her. We would also check out the location the pups would actually be adopted from that had–we’d heard–allowed a puppy to be adopted out without being altered for a little while with a $100 deposit.

The next day, the four of us girls (Mom, my sisters, and I) packed up and drove into Keller. The manager–extremely nice, by the way–told us that, really, her hands were tied. She could do the deposit thing and allow us to take him, unaltered, until 6 months of age. By the rules of the state of Texas, however, the shelter could not allow unaltered puppies past the 6 month mark. They didn’t want them to go through a full cycle, since America already has a dog overpopulation problem. If she did allow it, she said, they could come after the Keller Humane Society legally, and repossess the dog.

Darn, darn, darny-darn.

–Bad Cop (The Lego Movie)

Do I get why? 100%. Do I think tweaking the policy a little would benefit more people? Ah, cha. Think about it. Even if we had to bring in a contract signed both by us and Ms. Amanda saying why we wanted it this way, and that we’d do everything to keep more puppies from being born as a result, we’d be willing to do it. It’d give more puppies a home, help the Humane Society expand its clientele, allow a very valuable relationship to grow between the Humane Society and Ms. Amanda (and other trainers like her). It’d also make SD’s easier to get for people like me who really don’t have a few thousand to put down for a breeder.

Now, that’s the way it is here. I don’t know how it is in y’all’s area, but I do think the law makes sense if you’re getting a pet, but, in my case, this made it so Teddy wasn’t able to become my SD.

But what about his name? Gracious gift, huh? What do you make of that, Miss Everything-has-a-purpose? Let’s see you put an optimistic spin on this. I hear you, I hear you. But I would argue that both he and Ozzy have been gracious gifts. Ozzy gave us hope like nothing aside from a live dog in our home could. Teddy broke down convinced our landlord to sign off on a SDiT. (Service Dog in Training.) And, he was a gracious gift in ways that hurt a bit more, too.

First, the more amusing story. Josie, my beloved sister, called me in the middle of the fellowship beginning part of my church group. Her reasoning? ‘You want Teddy? I’ll get him for you. We’re going to Avengers this thing! I’ve got some feisty southern mama bears on board! Where is Teddy right now?’ To which I replied, maybe a bit too loudly, “Jo, you cannot steal the dog!” Boy, did I get some looks. Yes, non-Texan friends, the stereotype is real down here. And, honestly, I can’t say I’m mad.

On a more serious note, I let the walls around my heart down with Teddy. Everything was all good. He was mine, all I needed to do was adopt him. I connected with the idea of him deeply. He would be my partner for the next eight to ten years. He’d be the one that I would cultivate a kind of telepathy with. He’d sleep in my room. He’d be the bear cub that I’d secretly forever dreamed of having. He’d be my dog. You know how long I’ve wanted that?

But then, with one conversation, all that hope, all those dreams crashed in around my ears. And I felt. I hadn’t truly felt the loss with Ozzy, because I was aware there was still a test or two to pass. I hadn’t let my self hope, and I’d kept that a secret even from myself. So when we walked out of Bass Pro Shop and my family felt anything from disappointment to crushed, I felt… nothing. Because he was a dog visiting. He might have become my service dog, but I’d dealt with the word ‘might’ for a year, now. This was just a walking ‘might’. So while I connected with him, and loved having him here, I kept an invisible barrier around my heart, afraid to hope. But Teddy? I have this thing where I can mentally walk through my life if I choose one option as opposed to another, and I’d done that with Teddy. (Maybe this is why I’ve never had a date. Because every guy I consider gets this treatment and usually it ends in a breakup or something. Hmmm… food for thought. Any way…) I’d already walked through the next decade of my life with Teddy by my side, every other option grayed out. I’d seen him by my side as a puppy, an adolescent, an adult, and an aging dog, able to retire in my future home to pethood and help me train his successor. I’d come to understand Teddy would be my first, not another. And now that whole system of belief leaked out through my eyes as I mourned something that never really was.

So his gracious gift was showing me that I’ll survive; that it’s fine to feel and mourning is a part of life. Kneading my heart back to flesh, as is sometimes necessary with me. (I’m an INFJ 5, for those of you who know the Myers-Brigs and Enneagram. Apparently I can turn into a stone-cold robot going through the motions, sometimes.)

And even beyond all that, he’ll be a gracious gift to someone else, too. Speaking of, if anyone wants to adopt Teddy, I’m praying he’ll get to a good home and be able to help the family God has planned to embrace him. If that’s you, I’d recommend acting fast. 🙂

So, now what? Well, you remember that four-month old pup Ms. Amanda offered? The miracle pup? The one that is house-trained, has both his parvo shots so we don’t have to carry him around all the time? The one that, at four months, is already thirty pounds and gaining–meaning he’ll be big, like I need? The one in a house that has trained Service Dogs in the past?  Unfixed and available! And, somehow, I’ll have the honor of naming a four-month old dog when Teddy was already named at two months.

So may I introduce you to Yahaloam? Yahaloam is Hebrew for miracle, because, as well as being a miracle dog, it’ll be a miracle when I’m able to start training my dog! And, this time, I’m not afraid to give my heart over to hope for the miracle I’m praying for. Heart service, not just lip service.

…My family sure likes black labs. This is the second one we will have had and both sets of my paternal aunts and uncles have one. My maternal aunt, uncle, and cousins have a neighbor who has an old, retired, lab service dog.

Hm. Interesting. Are you trying to tell me something, God?

Anyway. So I’m getting Yahalom on the 17th. Hopefully. Third time’s the charm, right? Plus, we’ve got the meeting set for Sunday. At 10:32 because she said anytime after 10:30. So I’m praying the rapture doesn’t happen on Saturday. Or Sunday at 10:31, because at this point… well, I’d suggest everyone repent right now, just in case with the way this is going.

P.S. The title was Mom’s idea. I don’t get the reference beyond her explanation, but she assured me there are people out there who will. However, if we could avoid making my online journal the script for a soap opera, I’d appreciate it. Thanks. 🙂